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WESTERN CHARACTERS . „^ 



OR 



TYPES OF BORDER LIFE 



IN THE 



WESTERN STATES 



BY J. L. McCONNEL 

AUTHOR OF "TALBOT AND VEBNON,' — "THE GLENNS," ETC. 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY DARLEY 




fe^.ri.- 



'/■ 



fi 



R E D F I E L D, 

110 AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW Y O R IL 

1853. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, 

Br J. S, REDFIELD, 

in the C]erk*8 OfBce of the District Court of the United States, in and f<» 
the Southern District of New York. 



STEREOTYPED BY C. C. SAVAGE, 
13 Chambers Street, N. Y. 



PEEFATOET ITOTE. 

Attempts to delineate local character are always 
liable to misconstruction ; for, the more truthful the 
sketch, the greater is the number of persons, to whom 
resemblance may be discovered ; and thus, while in 
fact only describing the characteristics of a class, 
authors are frequently subjected, very unjustly, to 
the imputation of having invaded the privacy of in- 
dividuals. Particularly is this so, when the class 
is idealized, and an imaginary type is taken, as the 
representative of the species. 

I deem it proper, therefore, to say in advance, 
that no attempt has been made in the following 
pages, to portray any individual; and that — al- 
though I hope I have not been so unsuccessful, as 
to paint pictures which have no originals — if there 
be a portrait in any sketch, it consists, not in the 
likeness of the picture to the person, but of both to 
the type. 

As originally projected, the book would have 
borne this explanation upon its face ; but the cir- 
cumstances which have reduced its dimensions, and 



4: PREFATORY NOTE. 

changed its plan, have also rendered necessary a 
disclaimer, which would, otherwise, have been su- 
perfluous. 

One or two of the sketches might have been made 
more complete had I been fortunate enough to meet 
with certain late publications, in time to use them. 
Such is the elaborate work of Mr. Schoolcraft upon 
Indian History and Character ; and such, also, is 
that of Mr. Shea, upon the voyages and labors of 
Marquette — a book whose careful accuracy, clear 
style, and lucid statement, might have been of much 
service in wi'iting the sketch entitled " The Voya- 
geur.^^ Unfortunately, however, I saw neither of 
these admirable publications, until my work had as- 
sumed its present shape — a fact which I regret as 
much for my reader's sake as my own. 

J. L. McO. 

July 15, 1853. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 

Introductory • 

L 
The Indian ^^ 

II. 
The Voyageur *^ 

m. 

' The Pioneer ^^^ 

IV. 
Y The Ranger ^^^ 



V. 

YI. 



The Regulator ^^^ 



The Justice of the Peace 246 

VII. 

The Peddler 268 

VIII. 

The Schoolmaster 288 

IX. 

The Schoolmistress ^^^ 

X 
X^ The Politiolin 340 



INTRODUCTORY. 

" Our Mississippi, rolling proudly on. 

Would sweep them from its path, or swallow up. 
Like Aaron's rod, those streams of fame and song." 

Mas. Hals. 

The valley of a river like the channel of a 
man's career, does not always bear proportion 
to the magnitude or volume of the current, 
which flows through it. Mountains, forests, 
deserts, physical barriers to the former — and 
the obstacles of prejudice, and accidents of 
birth and education, moral barriers to the lat- 
ter — limit, modify, and impair the usefulness 
of each. A river thus confined, an intellect 
thus hampered, may be noisy, fretful, turbu- 
lent, but, in the contemplation, there is ever a 
feeling of the incongruity between the purpose 
and the power ; and it is only when the valley 
is extended, the field of effort open, that we 
can avoid the impression of energy wasted, and 
strength frittered away. The great intellect, 



8 INTEODUCTORT. 

whose scope is not confined by ancient land- 
marks, or old prejudices, is tlms typified by the 
broad, deep river, whose branches penetrate the 
Earth on every hand, and add to the current 
the tributaries of all climes. In this view, how 
noble an object is the Mississippi ! 

In extent, fertility, variety of scenery, and 
diversity of climate, its valley surpasses any 
other in the world. It is the great aorta of 
the continent, and receives a score of tributary 
rivers, the least of which is larger than the 
vaunted streams of mighty empires. It might 
furnish natural boundaries to all Europe, and 
yet leave, for ever}^ country, a river greater than 
the Seine. It discharges, in one year, more 
water than has issued from the Tiber in five 
centuries ; it swallows up near fifty nameless 
rivers longer than the Thames ; the addition 
of the waters of the Danube would not swell it 
half a fathom ; and in a single bend, the navies 
of the world might safely ride at anchor, five 
hundred miles from sea. 

It washes the shores of twelve powerful states, 
and between its arms lies space enough for twen- 
ty more. The rains which fall upon the Allega- 
nies, and the snows that shroud the slopes and 
cap the summits of the Rocky mountains, are 
borne upon its bosom, to the regions of perpet- 



INTRODUCTORY. 9 

ual summer, and poured into the sea, more than 
fifteen hundred leagues from their sources. It 
has formed a larger tract of land, by the de- 
posites of its inundations, than is contained in 
Great Britain and Ireland ; and every year it 
roots up and bears away more trees, than there 
are in the Black Forest. At a speed unknown 
to any other great river, it rolls a volume, in 
whose depths the cathedral of St. Paul's might 
be sunk out of sight ; and five hundred leagues 
from its mouth, it is wider than at thirty. 

It annually bears away more acres than it 
would require to make a German principality, 
engulfing more than the revenues of many a 
petty kingdom. Beneath its turbid w^aters lie 
argosies of wealth, and floating palaces, among 
whose gilded halls and rich saloons are sporting 
slimy creatures ; bfelow your very feet, as you 
sail along its current, are resting in its bed, 
half buried in the sand, the bodies of bold men 
and tender maidens ; and their imploring hands 
are raised toward Heaven, and the world which 
floats, unheeding, on the surface. There lies, 
entombed, the son whose mother knows not of 
his death ; and there the husband, for whose 
footstep, even yet, the wife is listening — here, 
the mother with her infant still clasped fondly 
to her breast ; and here, united in their lives, 
1* 



10 TNTEODTJCTORY. 

not separated in their death, lie, side by side, 
the bride and bridegroom of a day; — and, 
hiding the dread secrets from all human ken, 
the mighty and remorseless river passes on- 
ward, like the stream of human life, toward 
" the land of dreams and shadows !" 

To the contemplative mind, there is, perhaps, 
no part of the creation, in which may not be 
found the seed of much reflection ; but of all 
the grand features of the earth's surface, next to 
a lofty mountain, that which impresses us most 
deeply is a great river. Its pauseless flow, the 
stern momentum of its current — its remorseless 
coldness to all human hopes and fears — the se- 
crets which lie buried underneath its waters, 
and the myriad purposes of those it bears upon 
its bosom — are all so clearly typical of Time. 
The waters will not pause, though dreadful bat- 
tles may be fought upon their shores — as Time 
will steadily march forward, though the fate 
of nations hang upon the conflict. The mo- 
ments fly as swiftly, while a mighty king is 
breathing out his life, as if he were a lowly 
peasant ; and the current flows as coldly on, 
while men are struggling in the eddies, as if 
each drowning wretch were but a floating weed. 
Time gives no warning of the hidden dangers 
on which haughty conquerors are rushing, as 



INTRODUCTOKY. 11 

the perils of the waters are revealed but in the 
crashing of the wreck. 

But the parallel does not stop here. The 
sources of the Mississippi — were it even possi- 
ble that they should ever be otherwise — are 
still unknown to man. Like the stream of his- 
tory, its head-springs are in the regions of fable 
— in the twilight of remote latitudes; and it is 
only after it has approached us, and assumed a 
definite channel, that we are able to determine 
which is the authentic stream. It flows from 
the country of the savage, toward that of civi- 
lization ; and like the gradations of improve- 
ment among men, are the thickening fields and 
growing cultivation, which define the periods 
of its course. N^ear its mouth, it has reached 
the culmination of refinement — its last ripe 
fruit, a crowded city ; and, beyond this, there 
lies nothing but a brief journey, and a plunge 
into the gulf of Eternity ! 

Thus, an emblem of the stream of history, it 
is still more like a march along the highway 
of a single human life. As the sinless thoughts 
of smiling childhood are the little rivulets, 
which afterward become the mighty river; 
like the infant, airy, volatile, and beautiful — 
sparkling as the dimpled face of innocence — 
a faithful reflex of the lights and shadows of 



12 INTKODUCrOET. 

existence; and revealing, through the limpid 
wave, the golden sands which lie beneath. 
Anon, the errant channels are united in one 
current — 'life assumes a purpose, a direction — 
but the waters are yet pure, and mirror on their 
face the thousand forms and flashing colors of 
Creation's beauty — as happy boyhood, rapidly 
perceptive of all loveliness, gives forth, in radi- 
ant smiles, the glad impressions of unfaded 
youth. 

Yet sorrow cometli even to the happiest. 
Misfortune is as stern a leveller as Death ; and 
early youth, with all its noble aspirations, gor- 
geous visions, never to be realized, must often 
plunge, like the placid river over a foaming 
cataract, down the precipice of affliction — even 
while its current, though nearing the abyss, 
flow softly as " the waters of Shiloah." It may 
be the death of a mother, whom the bereaved 
half deemed immortal — some disappointment, 
like the falsehood of one dearly loved — some 
rude shock, as the discovery of a day-dream's 
hollowness ; happy, thrice happy I if it be but 
one of these, and not the descent from inno- 
cence to sin ! 

But life rolls on, as does the river, though its 
wave no longer flows in placid beauty, nor re- 
veals the hidden things beneath. Tlie ripples 



INTRODUCTOEY. 13 

are now •v\jliirling eddies, and a hundred angry 
currents chafe along the rocks, as thought and 
feeling fret against the world, and waste their 
strength in vain repining or impatient irrita- 
tion. Tranquillity returns no more ; and 
though the waters seem not turhid, there is 
a shadow in their depths — their transparency 
is lost. 

Tributaries, great and small, flow in — acces- 
sions of experience to the man, of weight and 
volume to the river ; and, with force augment- 
ed, each rolls on its current toward the ocean. 
A character, a purpose, is imparted to the life, 
as to the stream, and usefulness becomes an 
element of being. The river is a chain which 
links remotest latitudes, as through the social 
man relations are established, binding alien 
hearts : the spark of thought and feeling, like 
the fluid of the magnet, brings together distant 
moral zones. 

On it rushes — through the rapids, where the 
life receives an impulse — driven forward — 
haply downward — among rocks and danger- 
ous channels, by the motives of ambition, by 
the fierce desire of wealth, or by the goad of 
want ! But soon the mad career abates, for 
the first efi'ect of haste is agitation, and the 
master-spell of power is calmness. Happy are 



14 INTKODUCTORY. 

tliey, who learn this lesson early — for, thence, 
the current onward flows, a tranquil, noiseless, 
but resistless, tide. Manhood, steady and ma- 
ture, with its resolute but quiet thoughts, its 
deep, unwavering purposes, and, more than all, 
its firm, profound affections, is passing thus, be- 
tween the shores of Time — not only working 
for itself a channel broad and clear, but bear- 
ing on its bosom, toward Eternity, uncounted 
wealth of hopes. 

But in the middle of its course, its character 
is wholly changed ; a flood pours in, whose 
waters hold, suspended, all impurities. A 
struggle, brief but turbulent, ensues : the lim- 
pid wave of youth is swallowed up. Some 
great success has been achieved ; unholy pas- 
sions are evoked, and will not be allayed ; 
thenceforward there is no relenting ; and, 
though the world — nay! Heaven itself! — 
pour in, along its course, broad tributaries of 
reclaiming purity, the cloud upon the waters 
can never be dispelled. The marl and dross 
of Earth, impalpable, but visibly corrupting, 
pervade the very nature ; and only when the 
current ceases, will its primitive transparency 
return. 

Still it hurries onward, with velocity aug- 
mented, as it nears its term. Yet its breadth 



INTRODUCTORY. 15 

is not increased ; tlie eartli suspended in its 
waters, like the turbid passions of the human 
soul, prevents expansion ;"''^ for, in man's career 
through time, the heart grows wider only in 
the pure. 

Along the base of cliffs and highlands — 
through the deep alluvions of countless ages — 
among stately forests and across extended plains, 
it flows without cessation. Beyond full man- 
hood, character may change no more — as, be- 
low its mighty tributaries, the river is unaltered. 
Its full development is reached among rich plan- 
tations, waving fields, and swarming cities ; 
while, but the journey of a day beyond, it 
rushes into Eternity, leaving a melancholy rec- 
ord, as it mingles with the waters of the great 
gulf, even upon the face of Oblivion. 

— Within the valley of this river, time will see 
a population of two hundred millions ; and here 
will be the seat of the most colossal power 
Earth has yet contained. The heterogeneous 
character of the people is of no consequence : 
still less, the storms of dissension, which now 
and then arise, to affright the timid and faith- 
less. The waters of all latitudes conld not be 
blended in one element, and purified, without 

* "Were it a clear stream, it would soon scoop itself out a 
channel from bluff to bluff." — Flint's Geography, p. 103. 



16 INTKODUCTORT. 

the tempests and cross-currents, which lash the 
ocean into lurj. l^or would a stagnant calm- 
ness, blind attachment to the limited horizon 
of a homestead, or the absence of all irritation 
or attrition, ever make one people of the emi- 
igrants from every clime. 

And, when this nation shall have become 
thoroughly homogeneous — when the world 
shall recognise the race^ and, above this, the 
jpower of the race — will there be no interest in 
tracing through the mists of many generations, 
the outlines of that foundation on which is 
built the mighty fabric ? Even the infirmities 
and vices of the men who piled the first stones 
of great empires, are chronicled in history as 
facts deserving record. The portrait of an an- 
cient hero is a treasure beyond value, even 
though the features be but conjectural. How 
much more precious would be a faithful por- 
trait of his character^ in which the features 
should be his salient traits — the expression, 
outline, and complexion of liis nature ! 

To furnish a series of such portraits — em- 
bracing a few of the earlier characters, wliose 
"mark" is traceable in \\\ii orrowinp- civilization 
of the West and South — is the design of the 
present work. The reader will observe that its 



INTEODUCTOKY. IT 

logic is not the selection of actual, but of ideal, 
individuals, each representing a class ; and that, 
although it is arranged chronologically, the pe- 
riods are not historical, but characteristic. The 
design, then, is double ; first^ to select a class^ 
which indicates a certain stage of social or pol- 
itical advancement; and, second^ to present a 
picture of an imaginary individual, who com- 
bines the prominent traits, belonging to the 
class thus chosen. 

The series halts, beyond the Rubicon of con- 
temporaneous portraiture, for very obvious rea- 
sons ; but there are still in existence abundant 
means of verifying, or correcting, every sketch. 
I have endeavored to give the consciousness of 
this fact its full weight — to resist the tempta- 
tion (which, I must admit, was sometimes 
strong) to touch the borders of satire ; and, in 
conclusion, I can only hope that these wishes, 
with an earnest effort at fidelity, have enabled 
me to present truthful pictures. 



I. 



THE INDIAN. 

**In the eame beaten channel still have run 
The blessed streams of human sympathy ; 
And, though I know this ever hath been done, 
The why and wherefore, I could never see 1" 

Phebe Cabet. 

In a work whicli professes to trace, even in- 
iistinctly, the reclamation of a country from a 
3tate of barbarism, some notice of that from 
which it was reclaimed is, of course, necessary ; 
and an attempt to distioguish the successive 
periods, each by its representative character, 
determines the logic of such notice. Were we 
as well acquainted with the gradations of In- 
dian advancement — for such unquestionably, 
there were — as we are with those of the civil- 
ized man, we should be able to distinguish eras 
and periods, so as to represent them, each by 
its separate ideal. But civilization and barbar- 
ism are comparative terms ; and, though it is 



22 WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 

races are descendants of Asiatic emigrants ; and 
the minor questions, as to the route they fol- 
lowed — whether across the Pacific, or by Behr- 
ing's strait — are merely subjects of curious 
speculation, or still more curious research. And 
this hypothesis is quite consistent with the evi- 
dence drawn from Indian languages, customs, 
and physical developments. Even the argu- 
ments against the theory, drawn from differ- 
ences in these particulars among the tribes, 
lose their force, when we come to consider that 
the same, if not wider differences, are found 
among other races, indisputably of a single 
stock. These things may be satisfactorily ac- 
counted for, by the same circumstances in the 
one case, as in the other — by political and 
local situation, by climate, and unequal prog- 
ress. Thus, the Indian languages, says Pres- 
cott, in his " Conquest of Mexico," " present 
the strange anomaly of differing as widely in 
etymology, as they agree in organization ;" but 
a key to the solution of the problem, is found 
in the latter part of the same sentence : " and, 
on the other hand," he continues,* "while they 
bear some slight affinity to the languages of 
the Old World, in the former particular, they 
have no resemblance to them whatever, in the 

*Vol. Ill,, page 394. 



THE INDIAN. 253 

latter." This is as mucli as if he had said, that 
the incidents to the lives of American Indians, 
are totally different to those of the nations of 
the Old World: and these incidents are pre- 
cisely the circumstances, which are likely to 
affect organization, more than etymology. And 
the difficulty growing out of their differences 
among themselves, in the latter, is surmounted 
by the fact, that there is a sufficient general re- 
semblance among them all, to found a compari- 
son with " the languages of the Old World." 
I believe, a parallel course of argument would 
clear away all other objections to the theory.* 

But, as has been said, the scope of our work 
includes none of these discussions; and we 
shall, therefore, pass to the Indian character, 
abstracted from all antecedents. That this has 
been, and is, much misunderstood, is the first 
thought which occurs to one who has an oppor- 

* There is, however, little necessity for any argument on the 
subject: For, leaving out of the question the highest and 
most sacred of authorities, almost all respectable writers upon 
ethnology, including Buffon, Yolney, Humboldt, &c., agree in 
assigning a common origin to all nations, — though the last 
deduces from many particulars, the conclusion that the Amer- 
ican Indian was " isolated in the infancy of the world, from 
the rest of mankind." — Ancient Inhabitants of America, vol. 
L, p. 260. 



24 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

tunit J personallj to observe the savage. Kor is 
it j ustly a matter of surprise. The native of this 
continent has been the subject of curious and 
unsatisfactory speculation, since the discovery 
of the country by Columbus : by the very want 
of those things, which constitute the attraction 
of other nations, he became at once, and has 
continued, the object of a mysterious interest. 
Tlie absence of dates and facts, to mark the 
course of his migration, remits us to conjecture, 
or the scarcely more reliable resource of tradi- 
tion — the want of history has made him a 
character of romance. The mere name of In- 
dian gives the impression of a shadowy image, 
looming, dim but gigantic, through a darkness 
which nothing else can penetrate. This mys- 
tery not only interests, but also disarms, the 
mind ; and we are apt to see, in the character, 
around which it hovers, only those qualities 
which give depth to the attraction. The crea- 
tions of poetry and romance are usually ex- 
tremes ; and they are, perhaps, necessarily so, 
when the nature of the subject furnishes no 
standard, by which to temper the conception. 

" The efforts of a poet's imagination are, more 
or less, under the control of his opinions ."" but 
opinions of men are founded upon their history ; 
and there is, properly, 7\o liistorical Indian 



THK 12\DIAN. 25 

character. The consequence lias been, that 
poets and novelists have constructed their sav- 
age personages according to a hypothetical 
standard, of either the virtues or vices, belong- 
ing, potentially, to the savage state. The same 
rule, applied to portraiture of civilized men, 
would at once be declared false and perni- 
cious ; and the only reason why it is not equally 
so, in its application to the Indian, is, because 
the separation between him and us is so broad, 
that our conceptions of his character can exert 
little or no influence upon our intercourse with 
mankind. 

Sympathy for what are called the Indian's 
misfortunes, has, also, induced the class of wri- 
ters, from whom, almost exclusively, our notions 
of his character are derived, to represent him 
in his most genial phases, and even to palliate 
his most ferocious acts, by reference to the in- 
justice and oppression, of which he has been 
the victim. If we were to receive the author- 
ity of these writers, we should conclude that 
the native was not a savage, at all, until the 
landing of the whites ; and, instead of ascribing 
his atrocities to the state of barbarism in which 
he lived — thus indicating their only valid 
apology — we should degrade both the white 
and the red men, by attributing to the former 
2 



26 AVESTEIiN CIIAEACTEKS. 

all imaginable vices, and, to tlie latter, a pecu- 
liar aptitude in acquiring them. These mis- 
takes are natural and excusable — as the man 
who kills another in self-defence is justifiable ; 
but the Indian character is not the less miscon- 
ceived, jnst as the man slain is not less dead, 
than if malice had existed in both cases. To 
praise one above his merits, is as fatal to his 
consideration, as decidedly to disparage him. 
In either case, however, there is a chance that 
a just opinion may be formed; but, when both 
extremes are asserted with equal confidence, 
the mind is confused, and can settle upon noth- 
ing. The latter is precisely the condition of 
the Indian ; and it is with a view of correcting 
Buch Impressions, that this article is written. 

The American Indian, then, is the ideal of a 
savage — no more, no less : and I call him the 
ideal, because he displays all those qualities, 
which the history of the human race authorizes 
us to infer, as the characteristics of an unen- 
lightened people, for many ages isolated from 
the rest of mankind ?* He differs, in many 

* It will be observed, that I assume the unihj of the Indian 
race ; and I am not sufficiently acquainted with the recent 
discussions on the subject, to be certain whether the question 
is still considered open. But the striking analogies between 



TIIU IXDI.\JS'. 27 

particulars, from tlie otlier barbarians of the 
world ; but the broadest distinction lies in this 
completeness of his savage character. The pe- 
culiarities of the country in which their lives 
assume their direction, its climate, isolation, or 
connection with the world — all these things con- 
tribute to modify the aspects presented by native 
races. In such points as are liable to modifica- 
tion by these causes, the American differs from 
every other savage ; and without entering into 
an elaborate comparison of circumstances ^ — ^for 
which we have neither the material, the incli- 
nation, nor the space — it may be proper briefly 
to consider one of these causes, and endeavor 
to trace its effects in the Indian's moral physi- 
ognomy. 

The state of this continent, when the first 
Asiatic wanderers landed upon its shores, was, 
of course, that of a vast, unbroken solitude ; 
and the contemplation of its almost boundless 
extent and profound loneliness, was certainly 
the first, and probably the most powerful agen- 
cy, at work in modifying their original charac- 
ter. What the primaiy effects of this cause 

the customs, pliysical formation, and languages of all the vari- 
ous divisions, (except the Esquimaux, who are excluded), I 
thiuk, authorize the assumption. 



28 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

were likely to be, we may observe in the white 
emigrants, who have sought a home among the 
forests and upon the plains of the west : Avhat- 
ever they may have been before their migra- 
tion, they soon become meditative, abstracted, 
and taciturn. These, and especially the last, 
are the peculiar characteristics of the Indian ; 
his taciturnity, indeed, amounts to austerity, 
sometimes impressing the observer with the 
idea of affectation. The dispersion, which must 
have been the eff'ect of unlimited choice in 
lands — the mode of life pursued by those who 
depended upon the chase for subsistence — the 
gradual estrangement produced among the sepa- 
rate tribes, by tlie necessity of wide hunting- 
grounds — the vast expanse of territory at com- 
mand — causes operating so long, as to ]3roduce 
a fixed and corresponding nature — are the 
sources, to wliicli we may trace almost all the 
Indian's distinctive traits. 

" Isolation," Carlyle says, " is the sum total 
of wretchedness to man ;" and, doubtless, the 
idea which he means to convey is just. " But," 
in tlie words of De Quincey, "no man can be 
truly great, without at least chequering his life 
with solitude." Separation from his kind, of 
course, deprives a man of the humanizing influ- 
ences, which are the consequences of associa- 



THE INDIAN. 29 

tion ; but it may, at the same time, strengthen 
some of the noblest qualities of human nature. 
Thus, we are authorized to ascribe to this agen- 
cy, a portion of the Indian's fortitude under 
hardships and suffering, his contempt for mere 
meanness, and above all, the proud elevation 
of his character. The standards of comparison, 
which were furnished by his experience, were 
few, and, of course, derived from the ideas of 
barbai'ians ; but all such as were in any way 
modified by the solitude of his existence, were 
rendered impressive, solemn, and exalted. 

In the vast solitudes of Asia, whence the In- 
dian races migrated to this continent, so far as 
the loneliness of savage deserts and endless 
plains might exert an influence, we should ex- 
pect to find the same general character. But 
the Asians are almost universally pastoral — 
the Americans never ; the wildest tribes of 
Tartary possess numerous useful domesticated 
animals — the Americans, even in Mexico,* 
had none ; the Tartars are acquainted with the 
use of milk, and have been so from time im- 
memorial — the Indian, even at this day, has 
adopted it only in a few localities, among the 
moi-e enlightened tribes. The migration of the 
latter either took place at a period before even 

* Conquest of Mexico, vol. iii., p. 416. 



30 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

his Asiatic father had discovered its use, or the 
accidents which brought him to this continent, 
were such as to preclude importing domesti- 
cated animals ; and the lapse of a few genera- 
tions was sufficient to obliterate even the 
recollection of such knowledge. " And," says 
Prescott,* " he might well doubt, whether the 
wild, uncouth monsters, whom he occasionally 
saw bounding with such fnry over the distant 
plains, were capable of domestication, like the 
meek animals which he had left grazing in the 
green pastures of Asia." To this leading dis- 
tinction — the adoption and neglect of pastoral 
habits — may be referred most of the diversi- 
ties among races, unquestionably of one stock. 

Reasoning from the effects upon human char- 
acter, produced by the face of different coun- 
tries, we miglit expect to find, in the Indian, 
among other things, a strong tendency toward 
poetical thought, embodied, not in the mode of 
expression usually denominated poetry, but in 
the style of his addresses, the peculiarities of his 
theories, or the construction of his mytholog}^, 
language, and laws. This expectation is total- 
ly disappointed ; but when we examine the 
degree and character of bis advancement, and 

* Conquest of Mexico, vol. iii., p. 41 Y. 



THE INDIAN. . 31 

recollect a i\'\v of tlie circiimstaiices, amonir 
which the poetry looked for would be obliged 
to grow, our disappointment loses its element 
of surprise. The contemplation of ]N^ature in 
her primitive, terrible, and beautiful forms — 
the habit of meditation, almost the necessary 
consequence of solitude — the strange, w^ild 
enchantment of an adventurous life — have 
failed to develop in the Indian, any but selfish 
and sensual ideas. Written poetry was, of 
course, not to be expected, even from the in- 
digenous civilization of Mexico and Peru ; yet 
we might, with some ground for hope, seek 
occasional traces of poetical thought and feel- 
ing. We look in vain for any such thing. 

"Extremes meet," says one of the wisest of 
adages ; and the saying was never more singu- 
larly and profoundly vindicated, than in. its 
application to civilization and barbarism. The 
savage rejects all that does not directly gratify 
his selfish wants — the highly-civilized man is, 
in like manner, governed by the principle of 
utility / and, by both, the merely fanciful and 
imaginative is undervalued. Thus, as Mr. 
Macaulay^ ingeniously says, " A great poem, 
in a highly-polished state of society, is the 
most wonderful and splendid proof of genius." 

. * Essays — Art. * Milton,' 



32 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 

But, for tlie same reasons, the savage, who 
should disphij any remarkahlj poetical feeling 
or tone of thought, would be quite as great a 
prodigy. Poetry flourishes most luxuriantly 
midway between the two extremes. Its essence 
is the contemplation of great passions and ac- 
tions — of love, TcvcugQ, ambition. Imagina- 
tion is tlien vivified by the means of expression 
or articulation ; and, in the half-civilized state, 
neither a refined public sentiment, nor the 
other extreme of barbarous isolation, restrains 
the exhibition of great (and poetical) emotions. 
The best of Ilazlitt's numerous definitions 
of poetry, determines it to be '• the excess of 
imagination, beyond the actual or ordinary im- 
pression of any object or feeling."* But the 
Indian was destitute of all imagination ; appa- 
rently, the comjiosition of his nature included 
no such element ; and, certainly, the rude exi- 
gencies of his life did not admit its action. 
Even the purity of his mythology, compared to 
that of the Greeks and Komans,f has been (by 
Lord Lindsay) attributed to this want — though, 
if such were its only effects, it might very well 
be supplied. 

* Lectures on Encfliah Poets, p. 4. 

f No very high compliment, but as high as it deserves. "We 
shall see anon. 



THE INDIAN. 33 

The Indian lias no liiimor, no romance — 
liow could he possess poetical feeling? The 
gratification of sensual wants is the end of his 
life — too often, literally the end ! "He con- 
siders everything beneath his notice, which is 
not necessary to his advantage or enjoyment."* 
To him a jest is as unmeaning as the babbling of 
a brook ; his wife is a beast of burden ; and even 
his courting is carried on by gifts of good things 
to eat, sent to the parents. f Heaven is merely a 
hunting-ground ; his language has no words to 
express abstract qualities, virtues, vices, or sen- 
timents.:!: His idea of the G-reat Spirit, and the 
word which expresses it, may be applied with 
equal propriety to a formidable (though not 
beneiicent) animal ; indeed, the Indian words 
which we translate " spirit," mean only superi- 
or power, without the qualification of good or 
evil. He has not even the ordinary inhabitive 
instinct of the human race ; his attachment to 
any region of country depends upon its capacity 
to furnish game, and the fading of the former 
keeps pace with the disappearance of the latter. 
" Attachment to the graves of his ftxthers," is an 
agreeable fiction — unfortunately, only a fic- 

* Warburton's Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 1*77. 

f Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., p. 256. 

I Hunter's Memoirs, p. 236. Western Annals, p. 712. 

2* 



34 V^-ESTERN CIIAEACTEE3. 

tion."^' lie lias always been nomadic, witlioiit 
tlie pastoral habits which the word supposes : 
a mere wandering savage, without purpose or 
motive, beyond the gratification of the tempo- 
rary want, whim, or passion, and void of every- 
tiling deserving the name of sentiment. 

An extravagant, and, I am sorry to say, ground- 
less, notion has obtained currency, among al- 
most all winters upon the Indian character, that 
he is distinguished for his eloquence. But the 
same authors tell us, that his language, the ve- 
hicle of the supposed eloquence, can express on- 
ly material ideas-f Now, if we knew no more 
of his character than this, w^e should be author- 
ized to infer (what is, indeed, true), that he pos- 
sesses no standard for the distinction of good 
and evil, and that his imagination is bounded 
by the lines of his sensible experience. How 
any degree of eloquence can be compatible 
with this state of things, passes comprehension. 
And what reflection would conclude, a little 
examination will confirm. The mistake has, 
doubtless, grown out of a misconception of the 

♦Flint's Geography, p. 108. 

f "All ideas are expressed by figures addressed to the 
flenses." IFariwrfon, vol. i., p. 175. Bancroft, ut supra. 



rilE INDIAN. 35 

nature of eloquence itself.* If eloquence were 
aWJigure — even if it were, in any considerable 
degree, 7nere figure — tlien the tawdriest rhet- 
orician would be the greatest orator. But it is 
not so. On the contrary, the use of many 
words (or figures) to express an idea, denotes 
not command of language, but the absence of 
that power — just as the employment of numer- 
ous tools, to efifect a physical object, indicates, 
not skill in the brancli of physics, to which the 
object belongs, but rather awkwardness. Of 
course, much must be placed, in both cases, to 
the account of clumsy instruments ; but the 
instrument of speech differs from others in this : 
it is fashioned Jy, as well as for, its use ; and a 
rude, unpolished language is, therefore, an in- 
dex, in two ways, of the want of eloquence 
among the people who emplo}^ it. 

In this view, the figurative elocution of the In- 
dian, so far from affording evidence of oratori- 
cal power, if it proves anything, proves the op- 
posite. It is the barrenness of his language, 
and not the luxuriance of his imagination, 
which enforces that mode of speech.f Imagi- 

* See Bancroft, Hunter, CatUn, Flint, Jefferson, Ac.— passim 
— all supporters of Indian eloquence, but all informing us, that 
" combinations of material objects were his otili/ means of ex- 
pressing abstract ideas." 

f Vide Bancroft's United States, vol. iii.. pp. 25Y, '2G6, etc. 



36 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 

nation is the first element of oratory, simplicitj 
its first condition. We have seen that the In- 
dian is wholly destitute of the former ; and the 
stilted, meretricious, and ornate style, of even 
his ordinary communications, entirely excludes 
the latter from our conception of his character.* 
For example : take the expressions " bury 
the hatchet," for " make peace," and " a cloud- 
less sky," for "prosperity" — the latter being 
the nearest approximation to an abstract idea 
observed in Indian oratory. Upon examining 
these, and kindred forms of speech, we shall at 
once perceive that they are not the result of 
imagination, but are suggested by material 
analogies. Peace, to the savage, is, at best, 
but a negative idea ; and the state of peaceful- 
ness, abstracted from the absence of war, finds 
no corresponding word in his language. Even 
friendship only means that relation, in which 
friends may be of use to each other. As his 
dialects are all synthetic,f his ideas are all con- 

* E. G. "They style themselves the 'beloved of the Great 
Spirit.'" — Warburton, vol. i., p. 186. "In the Iroquois lan- 
guage, the Indians gave themselves the appellation of ' Angou- 
conoue, or 'Men of Always.'" — Chateaubriand's Travels in 
America, vol, ii., p. 92. Note, also, their exaggerated boast- 
fulness, even in their best speeches: "Logan never knew 
fear," &c. 

f "The absence of all reflective consciousness, and of all 



TUE INDIAN. 37 

Crete. To say, " / love^^ witliout expressing 
what or lohom I love, would be, so to speak, 
very bad Indian grammar. He can not even 
say " two" correctly, without applying the nu- 
meral to some object. The notion of absolute 
being, number, emotion, feeling, posture, or re- 
lation, is utterly foreign to his mode of thought 
and speech. 

So, also, of the " cloudless sky," used to ex- 
press a state of prosperity . He does not mean, 
by the phrase, the serenity of mind which pros- 
perity produces, nor any other abstract inflexion 
or suggestion of the figure. He is constantly ex- 
posed to the storms of heaven, in the chase, and 
on the war path ; and, even in his best "lodge," 
he finds but little shelter from their fury. Clear 
weather is, therefore, grateful to him — bright 
sunshine associates itself, in his mind, with com- 
fort, or (that supremest of Indian pleasures) 
undisturbed indolence. And the transition, 
though, as we have said, an approach to an 
abstract conception, is easy, even to the mind 
of a savage. His employment of such illustra- 
tions is rather an evidence of rudeness, than of 
eloquence — of barrenness, than of luxuriance 
of idea.^ 

logical analysis of ideas, is the great peculiarity of American 
speech." — Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 257. 

* Warburton's Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 180. 



38 WESTIiRN criARACTEES. 

From these considerations, it results, tliat 
even the ver}^ best specimens of Indian ora- 
tory, deserve the name oi 'plcturesq^ue^ rather 
than of eloquejit — two characteristics which 
bear no greater affinity to each other, than do 
the picture-writing of the Aztec and the alpha- 
betical system of the Greek. The speech of 
Lofiran — the most celebrated of Indian har- 
angues — even if genuine,* is but a feeble sup- 
port to the theory of savage eloquence. It is 
a mixture of the lament and the song of tri- 
umph, which may be found in equal perfection 
among all barbarous people ; but, so far as we 
are aware, was never elsewhere dignified with 
tliat sounding name. The slander of a brave 
and lionorable man,f which it contains, might 

* I have seen it hinted, though I have forgotten where, that 
Jefferson, and not Logan, was the author of this speech ; but the 
extravagant manner in which Jefferson himself praises it, seems 
to exclude the suspicion. "I may challenge the whole orations 
of Demosthenes and Cicero," he says, " and of any other more 
eminent orator, if Europe has furnished more eminent, to pro- 
duce a single passage superior to the speech of Logan !" Praise 
certainly quite high enough, for a mixture of lamentation and 
boastful ness. 

f The evidence in this matter has long ago been thoroughly 
sifiod ; nnd it is now certain that, so far from being present aid- 
ing at the massacre of Logan's family, Colonel Cresap earnestly 
endeavored to dissuade the party from its purpose. And yet the 
falsehood is perpetuated even in the common school-books of 



THE INDIAN. 39 

be the result of' a mistake easily made ; tlie 
wrongs of wliicli this chief was the victim, 
might render even a savage eloquent ; and tlie 
mixture of bloody vaunting with profound 
grief, is scarcely to be expected in any hut a 
savage. '' Logan never knew fear," he says ; 
"he would not turn on bis heel to save his 
life." This species of boasting is perfectly in 
keeping witli the Indian character ; but the 
pathetic reason for this carelessness, which 
follows — "There is no one to mourn for Lo- 
gan" — is one not likely to have occurred to an 
Lidian, even in his circumstances. And, grant- 
ing that tlie expression was used by the orator, 
and not (as it seems probable it was) added by 
Jefferson, it is, I believe, the only example on 
record of poetical feeling in any Lid i an speech. 

The religion of the Indian has given as much 
troublesome material to the builders of sys- 
tems, as has been furnished by all his other 
characteristics combined. The first explorers 
of America supposed that they had found a 
people, quite destitute of any religious belief. 
But faith in a higher power than that of man, 

the country, while its object has been mouldering in his grfive 
for a quarter of a century. — Western Annah^ p. 147. Ameri- 
can Pioneer, vol. i., p. Y, et seq. 



40 WESTERN CIIAEACTEES. 

is a necessity of the human ^niind ; and its or- 
ganization, more or less enlightened, is as natu- 
ral, even to the most degraded savage, as the 
formation of his language. Both depend upon 
general laws, common to the intellect of all 
races of men ; hoth are affected hj the external 
circumstances of climate, situation, and mode 
of life ; and the state of one may always be de- 
termined by that of the other. "No savage 
horde has been caught with its language in a 
state of chaos, or as if just emerging from the 
rudeness of undistinguishable sounds. Each 
appears, not as a slow formation by painful pro- 
cesses of invention, but as a perfect whole, 
springing directly from the powers of man."* 
And though this rigor of expression is not 
equally applicable to the Indian's religion, the 
fact is attributable solely to the difference in 
nature of the subjects. As the "primary sounds 
of a language are essentially the same every- 
where," the impulses and instincts of piety are 
common to all minds. But, as the written lan- 
guage of the Indian was but the pictorial repre- 
sentation of visible objects, having no metaphys- 
ical signification, so the symbols of his religion, 
the objects of his adoration, were drawn from 

* Biineroft, vol. iii., p. 254. 



THE INDIAN. 41 

external nature.* Even his faith in the Great 
Spirit is a graft upon his system, derived from 
the first missionaries ;f and, eagerl}^ as he adopt- 
ed it, it is probable that its meaning, to him, is lit- 
tle more exalted, than that of the " Great Bea- 
yer," which he believes to be the first progenitor, 
if not the actual creator, of that useful animal. 
We often see the fact, that the Indian be- 
lieves in his manitou^ cited as an evidence, 
that he has the conception of a spiritual divin- 
ity. But the word never conveyed such a 
meaning ; it is applicable more properly to ma- 
terial objects, and answers, with, if possible, a 
more intense and superstitious significance, to 
the term amulet. The Indian's manitou might 
be, indeed always was, some wild animal, or 
some part of a beast or bird — such as a bear's 
claw, a buffalo's hoof, or a dog's tooth. :j: And, 
though he ascribed exalted powers to this primi- 
tive guardian, it must be remembered that 

* Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 285. — " The God of the savage was what 
the metaphysician endeavors to express by the word substance.** 
But the Indian's idea of substance was altogether concrete. 

f The best authority upon this subject is found in the Jesuit 
" Relaciones ;" but it is at least pi'obable, that the pi'eeoncep- 
tions of the good Fathers colored, and, perhaps, shaped, many 
of the religious wonders there related. 

X "Lettres Edifiantes," vol. vi., p. 200, et seq. Warburton, 
vol. i., p. IS*?. 



42 WESTEEN CHARACTEES. 

these powers were only physical — such, for ex- 
ample, as would enable it to protect its devotee 
from the knife of his enemy, or give him suc- 
cess in hunting. 

Materialism, then, reigns in the religion, as 
in the language, of the Indian ; and its effects 
are what might be expected. His whole system 
is a degraded and degrading superstition ; and, 
though it has been praised for its superior 
purity, over that of the ancients, it seems to 
have been forgotten, that this purity is only the 
absence of one 'kind of -^'mpurity : and that its 
cruel and corrupting influences, of another sort, 
are ten-fold greater than those of the Greek 
mythology. The faith of the Greek embodied 
itself in forms, ceremonies, and observances — 
regularly appointed religious rites kept his piety 
alive ; the erection of grand temples, in honor 
of his deity, whatever might be his conception 
of that deity's character, attested his genuine 
devotion, and held constantly before his mind 
the abstract idea of a higher power. The In- 
dian, before the coming of the white man, erect- 
ed no temples'" in honor of his divinities ; for he 

* The extravagant stones told of tlie Natchez Indians (among 
whom there was said to be a remaikable tttiii)]e for worshij)) 
ore quite iiieredihie, even if tli.'v iia<l ju.t been <1i:^pn(Vcd 



THE INDIAN. 43 

venerated tlieiii only so long as they conferred 
physical benefits'" npon him ; and his idea of 
l^enelicence was wholly concrete. lie had no 
established form of worship; the ceremonies, 
which partook of a religious character, were 
grotesque in their conception, variable in their 
conduct, and inhuman in their details. Such, 
for example, are tlie torturing of prisoners, and 
the ceremonies observed on the occasion of a 
young Indian's placing himself under his guar- 
dian power. 

The dogmas of the Indian religion, until vari- 
ed by the teaching of missionaries, were few 
and simple — being circumscribed, like every- 
thing else belonging to him, by the material 
world. He believed in a good spirit, and an 
evil spirit; but his conception was limited by 
the ideas of benefit or injury, to himself j in- 
deed, it may safely be doubted, whether the 
word " spirit," in its legitimate sense, is at all 
applicable to his belief. "Power in a state of 
exertion," is the more accurate description of 

* When the manitou of the Indian lias failed to give him 
Buecess in the chase, or protection from danger, "he upbraids 
it with bitterness and contempt, and threatens to seek a more 
eflfeetual protector. If the manitou continues useless, this 
threat is fulfilled." Warb. nt supra. Vide, also, Catlin'a 
*' American Indians," vol. i., p. 3G, et seq. 



4:4 WESTEEN CHARACTEE9. 

his imperfect notion : abstract existence he 
never conceived; tlie verb ^'' to ^t^," except as 
relating to time, pbice, and action, had no 
meaning in his langnage."^ He believed, also, 
in subordinate powers of good and evil ; bnt, 
since his life was occupied more in averting 
danger and calamity, than in seeking safety 
or happiness, he paid far more respect to the 
latter than to the former — he prayed oftener 
and more fervently to the devils, than to the 
anojels. His clearest notion of divinity, was 
that of a being able to injure him ; and, in this 
sense, his devotion might be given to man, 
bird, or beast. 

There seems to be no doubt, that he believed 
in a sort of immortality, even before the mis-" 
sionaries visited his country. But it was not so 
much a new state of existence, as a continuation 
of present life.f He killed, horses upon the 
grave of the departed warrior, that he might 
be mounted for his long journey ; and buffalo 
meat and roasted maize were buried with him, 

* Bancroft^ vol. iii., p. 253. 

f " He calls it [the soul] the shadow or image of his body, but 
its acts and enjoyments are all the same as those of its earthly 
existence. He only pictures to himself a continuation of pres- 
ent pleasures." "Warb. vol. i., p. 190. Vide, also, Catlin's ''Amer- 
ican Indians,'' vol. i,, p. 158, et seq. 



THE INDIAN. 4:5 

that he might not suffer from hunger.* On 
arriving in the land of the blest, he believed, 
that the dead pursued the game of that country, 
as he had done in this; and the higliest felicity 
of wliich he conceived, was the liberty to hunt 
unmolested by the war-parties o^ his enemies. 
Heaven was, therefore, in his conception, only 
a more genial earth, and its inheritors but keen- 
er sportsmen. 

That this idea of immortality involved that 
of accountability, in some form, seems to admit 
of no doubt; but this doctrine, like almost all 
others belonging to the primitive savage, has 
been moulded to its present definite shape, by 
the long-continued labors of Christian mission- 
aries.f He believed, indeed, that the bad In- 
dians never reached the happy hunting-grounds, 
but the distinction between the good and the 
bad, in his mind, was not at all clear ; and, 
since the idea of the passage across the gulf of 

* The Indian never believed in the resurrection of the body; 
but even corn and venison were supposed to possess a spirit, 
which the spirit of the dead warrior might eat. — Jesuit " Rela- 
cion," 1633, p. 54. 

f " The idea of retribution," says Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 299, " as 
far as it has found its way among them, was derived frona 
Europeans." And the same remark may be made, of most of 
the otlier wonders, in which enthusiastic travellers have dis- 
covered coincidences with Christianitv. 



46 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

death most prevalent among all tribes, is that 
of a narrow bridge, over which only steady 
nerves and sure feet may carry the wanderer, 
it seems probable that the line was drawn be- 
tween the brave warrior and the successful hun- 
ter, on the o»e hand, and the coward and the 
unskilful, on the other. If these views be cor- 
rect, the inferences to be drawn from the In- 
dian's belief in immortality and accountability, 
are of but slender significance. 

Corrupt manners and degrading customs nev- 
er exist, in conjunction with a pure religious 
system. The outlines of social institutions are 
metaphysically coincident with the limits of 
piety ; and the refinement of morals depends 
upon the purity of faith. We may thus deter- 
mine the prevailing spirit of a national religion, 
by observation of domestic manners and habits ; 
and, among all the relations of life, that of parent 
and child is the best index to degree of advance- 
ment. Filial piety is but the secondary mani- 
festation of a devotional heart ; and attachment 
and obedience to a father on earth, are only im- 
perfect demonstrations of love to our Father in 
heaven. What, then — to apply the principle 
— is the state of this sentiment in the Indian? 
By the answer to that question, we shall be able 



THE IXDI^IX. 47 

to estimate the value of liis religious notions, 
and to determine the amount of hope, for his 
conversion, justified by their possession. The 
answer may be given in a few words : There 
is no such sentiment in the Indian character. 
Children leave their infirm parents to die alone, 
and be eaten hy the wolves ;* or treat them 
with violent indignity, f when the necessity 
of migration gives no occasion for this barbar- 
ous desertion. Young savages have been known 
to beat their parents, and even to kill them ; 
but the display of attachment or reverence for 
them, is quite unknown. Like the beast of the 
forest, they are no sooner old enough to care 
for themselves, than they cease even to remem- 
ber, by whose care they have become so ; and 
the slightest provocation will j^roduce a quarrel 
with a father, as readily as with a stranger. 
The unwritten law of the Indian, about which 
so many w^riters have dreamed, enacts no higher 
penalty for parricide, than for any other homi- 
cide ; and a command to honor his father and 
mother because they are his father and mother, 
would strike the mind of an Indian as simply 
absurd. 

* James's "Expedition,'' vol. i,, p. 237. — Catlin's "American 
Indiana" vol. i., pp. 216-18. The latter is a zealous apologist 
for Indian cruelties and barbarisms. 

f *' Conquest of Canada,'' vol. i., pp. 194-5. 



48 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

If the possession of a religion, whose fruits 
are no better than these, can, of itself, give 
ground for hope to the Christian philanthropist, 
let him cherish it fondly. But it is much to be 
feared, that the existence of such a system 
indefinitely postpones, if it does not entirely 
preclude, the Indian's conversion. Even a 
bird which has never known the forest, will 
eventually escape to the wilds which God has 
made its home ; and the young Indian, who 
has been reared in the city, will fly to the woods 
and prairies, and return to the faith of his fa- 
thers, because these, and only these, will satisfy 
his nature." 

A theme of praise, in itself more just, has 
been the Indian's courage; but the same cir- 
cumstances of poetical interest, which have 
magnified men's views of his other qualities, 

* The following may serve to indicate the sort of impression 
of Christianity which even the most earnest and enlightened, 
preaching has been able to make upon the Indian mind : "Here 
I saw a most singular imion; one of the [Indian] graves was 
surmounted by a cross, while close to it a trunk of a tree was 
raised, covered with hieroglyphics, recording the number of 
enemies slain by thS" tenant of the tomb. Here presenting a 
hint to those who are fond of system-making on the religion 
of these people," <tc. — BeltramVs Pilgrimage, &c., vol. ii., p. 
807. Bancroft's United States, vol. iii., pp. 303-4. Flint's 
Oeography, pp. 109, 126. 



THE INDIAN. 49 

have contributed to exaggerate this also. If 
cahn steadiness of nerve, in the moment of ac- 
tion, be an element in true courage, that of the 
primitive savage was scarcely genuine. In 
all his battles, there were but two possible as- 
pects — the furious onset, and the panic re- 
treat : the firmness which plants itself in line 
or square, and stubbornly contends for victory, 
was no part of his character. A check, to him, 
always resulted in a defeat ; and, though this 
might, in some measure, be the consequence 
of that want of discipline, which is incident to 
the savage state, the remark applies with equal 
justice, whether he fought singly or in a body. 
He was easily panic-struck, because the im- 
pulse of the forward movement was necessary 
to keep him strung to effort ; and the retrograde 
immediately became a rout, because daring, 
without constancy, collapses with the first re- 
action. 

Notwithstanding the enervating influences 
attributed to refinement and luxury, genuine, 
steady courage is one of the fruits borne by a 
high civilization. It is the result of combina- 
tion, thought, and the divinity which attaches 
to the cultivated man. And, though it may 
seem rather unfair to judge a savage by the 
rules of civilization, it has long been received 
3 



50 WESTEKN CIIAEACTERS. 

as a canon, that true valor bears an inverse ra- 
tio to ferocious cruelty. Of all people yet dis- 
covered upon earth, the Indian is the most 
ferocious. We must, therefore, either vary the 
meaning of the word, when applied to different 
people, or deny the savage the possession of 
any higher bravery, than that which lives only 
through the onset. 

Cunning suj)plied the place of the nobler 
quality ; the object of his warfare was to over- 
come by wily stratagem, rather than by open 
combat. "Skill consisted in surprising the 
enemy. They followed his trail, to kill him 
when he slept ; or they lay in ambush near a 
village, and watched for an opportunity of sud- 
denly surprising an individual, or, it might be, 
a woman and her children ; and, with three 
strokes to each, the scalps of the victims being 
suddenly taken off, the brave flew back with 
his companions, to hang the trophies in his 
cabin."'^ If they succeeded in taking prison- 
ers, it was only that they might be reserved 
for tl:e most infernal torments, and the gratifi- 
cation of a brutal ferocity, not the trial and 
admiration of the victim's courage, was the 
purpose of their infliction. f 

* Bancroft, vol. iii., p, 281. 

f "To inflict blows that can not be returned," says this his- 



THE INDIAN. 51 

The fortitude of the Indian under suffering, 
has often been referred to, in evidence of 
moral courage. And it is certainly true, that 
the display so frequently made of triumph in 
the hour of death by torture, indicates,* in 
part, an elevation of character, seldom found 
among more civilized men. It is, however, 
the elevation of a barbarian ; and its manifes- 
tations are as much the fruit of impotent 
rage, as of a noble fortitude. The prisoner at 
the stake knows that there is no escape ; and 
his intense hatred of his enemies takes the form 
of a wish, to deprive them of a triumph. While 
his flesh is crisping and crackling in the flames, 
therefore, he sings of the scalps he has taken, 
and heaps opprobrious epithets upon the heads 
of his tormentors. But his song is as much a 
cry of agony, as of exultation — his pain only 
adopts this mode of expression. It is quite cer- 
tain, also, that he does not suffer so deeply, as 
would a white man in the same circumstances. 
By long exposure, and the endurance of hard- 

torian (Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 282), " is a proof of full success, 
and tlie entire humiliation of the enemy. It is, moreover, an 
experiment of courage and patience." But we think such 
things as much mere brutality, as triumph. 

* The frequent change of tense in this article, refers to those 
circumstances in which the present differs from iha past char- 
acter of the Indian. 



62 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

ships incident to his savage life, his body ac- 
quires an insensibility akin to that of wild ani- 
mals.* His nerves do not shrink or betray a 
tendency to spasm, even when a limb is ampu- 
tated. Transmitted from one generation to an- 
other, this physical nature has become a pecu- 
liarity of the race. And when assisted by the 
fierce hatred above referred to, it is not at all 
strange that it should enable him to bear with 
fortitude, tortures which would conquer the 
firmness of the most resolute white man.f 

The Indian's dignified stoicism has been as 
much exaggerated, as his courage and forti- 
tude. It is not quite true that he never ex- 
presses surprise, or becomes loquacious. But 
he has a certain stern impassibility of feature 
— a coldness of manner — which have been mis- 
taken for dignity. His immobility of counte- 
nance, however, may be the efi'ect of sluggish 
sensibilities, or even of dull perceptions ;:j: and 

* It is to be doubted, whether some part of this vaunted 
stoicism be not the result of a more than ordinary degree of 
physical insensibility." — Flint's Geography, vol. i., p. 114. 

f Many white men, however, have endured the utmost ex- 
tremities of Indian cruelty. See cases of Brebeuf, and Lalle- 
mand, in Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 140. 

X "It is intellectual culture which contributes most to diversi- 
fy the features."— //wmftoW^'s Personal Narratively o\. iii., p. 228. 



THE INDIAN. 63 

the same savage vanity, wliicli leads Liin to 
make a display of strength or agility before 
friend or enemy, prevents his acknowledging 
ignorance, by betraying surprise.* We have 
been in company with Indians from the Far 
West, while they saw a railroad for the first 
time. When they thought themselves unno- 
ticed, they were as curious about the singular 
machinery of the locomotive, and as much ex- 
cited by the decorations and appointments of 
the cars, as the most ignorant white man. But 
the moment they discovered that their move- 
ments were observed, they resumed their dig- 
nified composure; and, if you had judged of 
the Indian country by their subsequent deport- 
ment, you might have believed that the vast 
prairies of the Missouri were everywhere inter- 
sected by railroads — that the Indian had, in 
fact, never known any other mode of travel- 
ling. " On first seeing a steamboat, however," 
says Flint, who well understands his character, 
" he never represses his customary ' Ugh P " 

Generally, among white men, he who is fond- 
est of inflicting pain, is least able to endure it. 

* ** They have probably as much curiosity [as the white], 
but a more stern perseverance in repressing it." — Flint's Geog- 
raphy, vol. i,, p. 124. 



54 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 

But the Indian reverses almost all the princi- 
ples, which apply to civilized life; and, ac- 
cordingly, we find that, with all his so-called 
fortitude, he is the most intensely cruel of all 
living men. Before possession of the continent 
was taken by Europeans, war was more con- 
stantly the occupation of his life, than it has 
been since ; but even now his only object in 
taking his enemies alive, is to subject them to 
the most inhuman tortures.* And in these 
brutal orgies, the women are most active, even 
taking the lead, in applying the cord and the 
brand. f E"or is this cruelty confined to ene- 
mies, as the practice of leaving the aged and 
infirm to die of starvation sufficiently proves. 

And his treachery is equal to his cruelty. 
"No treaty can bind him longer than superior 
force compels him to observe it. The discovery 
that his enemy is unprepared for an attack, is 
sufficient reason to him for making it ; his only 
object in concluding peace, is to secure an ad- 

* "The enemy is assailed with treachery, and, if conquered, 
treated with revolting cruelty." * * " A fiendish ferocity 
assumes full sway." — Conquest of Canada, vol. i., p. 206. 

f It is perhaps not very remarkable, however, that the wo- 
men are most cruel to the aged and infirm — the young and 
vigorous being sometimes adopted by them, to console them 
for the loss of those who have fallen. — Idem, p. 210. 



THE INDIAN. 55 

vantage in war ; and l)efore tlic prospect of a 
blood}^ inroad, liis faitli melts away, like snow 
before the sun. The claims of gratitude he sel- 
dom acknowledges ; he cherishes the memory 
of a benefit, only nntil he finds an opportunity 
of repaying it with an injury ; and forbearance 
to avenge the latter, only encourages its repeti- 
tion.^ The numerous pretty stories published 
of Indian gratitude, are either exceptional 
cases, or unmixed romances. 

There have been some tribes of Indians in a 
measure reclaimed from their state of barbar- 
ism ; the Cherokees, I believe, (and perhaps one 
or two other nations,) have even increased in 
numbers, under the influence of civilization. But 
this is the result of numerous favorable causes 
combined, and proves nothing, from which to 
infer the Indian's docility. Other savages, on 
coming in contact with civilized men, have dis- 
covered a disposition to acquire some of the 
useful arts — their comforts have been increased, 
their suflTe rings diminished, and their condition 
ameliorated, by the grafting of new ideas upon 

* " We consider them a treacherous people, easily swayed 
from their purpose, paying their court to the divinity of good 
fortune, and always ready to side with the strongest. "We 
should not rely upon their feelings of to-day, as any pledge 
for what they will be to-morrow." — Flinfs Geography, vol. i., 
p. 120. 



56 WE5TEEX CHAEACTEES. 

the old. But, between tlie red man and the 
white, contignity has brought about little more 
than an exehauge of vices. 

Almost the only things coveted by the '* red- 
skin" from the ''palelace," were his arms, his 
trinkets, and his " firewater." He conld appre- 
ciate whatsoever gave him superiority in war, 
gratified his childish vanity, or ministered to 
his brutal appetite. But the greater comfort 
of the white man's house — the higher excel- 
lence of his boat — his improved agricultural 
implements or extended learning — none of 
these things appealed to the Indian's passions 
or desires. The arts of peace were nothing to 
him — refinement was worse than nothing. He 
would spend hours in decorating his person, 
but not a moment in cleansiiig it : I believe 
no tradition exists of an Indian ever havino- 
used soap or bought a fine-tooth comb I He is, 
indeed, a '• pattern of filthiness ;•' but even in 
civilized life, we find that this is not at all in- 
compatible with an extravagant love of orna- 
ment ; and, in this respect, the savage is not 
behind his more enlightened brethren and sis- 
ters. Beads, ribands, and scarlet cloth — with 
powder and lead, guns, tomahawks, and knives 
— are the ac<[uisitions which he prizes most 
highly. 



THE INDIAN. 67 

Pre-eminent, however, above all tliese in his 
estimation, is the greatest curse which has jet 
reached him — the liquid lire called whiskey ! 
He is, by nature, a drunkard, and the fury of 
his intoxication equals the ferocity of his war- 
fare. "All words would be thrown away," 
says Mr. Flint,"^ " in attempting to portray, in 
just colors, the efiects of whiskey upon such a 
race." Fire should be kept away from com- 
bustibles — whiskey from the Indian, and for 
the same reason. With drunkenness, he pos- 
sesses, also, its inseparable companion, the vice 
of gambling.f He is the most inveterate 
gamester : Before the demon of avarice every- 
thing gives way. He even forgets his taciturn- 
ity, in the excitement of the game, and be- 
comes loquacious and eager. He will stake all 
his most valuable possessions, and, losing these, 
will even risk his own liberty, or life, on the 
turn of a card. "We were once witness to a 
game in San Antonio (in "Western Texas), 
among a party of Lipans,:}: a race of fine-looking 
men, who range the table-lands north of the 

* " Geography of the Mississippi VaUeii" vol. i., p. 121. 

f "The Indians are immoderately fond of play." — Warbur- 
ton, vol. i., p. 218. 

J These used cards ; but they have, among themselves, nu- 
merous games of chance, older than the discovery of the con- 
tinent ^^ 



58 WESTEEN CIIARACTEES. 

sources of the ISTiieces. Two of them, one the 
handsomest warrior among them, lost, first, the 
money, which they had just received as the 
price of skins, brought to the city for sale. They 
then staked, snccessively, their horses, their 
arms, their mocassins, and their blankets. The 
" luck" was against them — everything was lost ; 
and we supposed the game was over. But 
— as a last resource, like drawing blood from 
their beating hearts — each produced a little 
leathern hottle^ containing whiskey ! And, as 
if these possessed a higher value than all the 
articles yet lost, the game "went on with in- 
creased interest ! Even the potent " spirit" 
thus evoked, could not prevail upon Fortune to 
change her face : the whiskey was lost with 
the rest ! Each rose to his feet, with the usual 
guttural exclamation, and, afoot, and unarmed 
as he was, silently took his way to the prairies ; 
while the winners collected in a group, and 
with much glee, proceeded to consume the 
liquid poison so cheaply obtained. 

We come, finally to the question of the In- 
dian's fate : What is to become of the race ? 
The answer presents no difiiculties, save such 
as grow out of men's unwillingness to look un- 
pleasant truths in the face. There has been, 



a HE INDIAN. 59 

of late years, much lamentation, among our 
own people, over the gradual extinction of 
these interesting savages ; and in Europe we 
have been made the subject of indignant elo- 
quence, for (what those, who know nothing 
about it, are pleased to call) " our oppression 
of the Indian." But, in the first place, the de- 
cay of the American races is neither so rapid 
nor so universal, as is generally supposed;"* 
and, in the second place, if the fact were other- 
wise, we could, at the worst, be charged only 
with accelerating a depopulation already be- 
gun. "The ten thousand mounds in the Mis- 
sissippi Yalley, the rude memorials of an im- 
mensely numerous former population, but, to 
our view, no more civilized than the present 
races, are proofs that the country loas depopiL- 
lated^ when the white man first became ac- 
quainted with it. If we can infer nothing else 
from these mounds, we can clearly infer, that 
this country once had its millions."f What 

* " The Cherokee and Mobilian families of nations are mora 
numerous now than ever." — Bancroft, vol. iii., p. 253. In 
speaking of this declamation about the extinction of the race, 
Mr. Flint very pertinently remarks : " One would think it had 
been discovered, that the population, the improvements, and 
the social happiness of our great political edifice, ought never 
to have been erected in the place of these habitations of 
cruelty. ' — Geog^raphif, vol, i., p. 10*7. 

f Idem, 



60 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 

had become of this immense i^opulation ? The 
successive invasions of new hordes of barba- 
rians from the north, intestine wars, and the 
law, that men shall advance toward civiliza- 
tion, or decay from the earth — th^se are the 
only causes to which we may ascribe their dis- 
appearance. 

The extinction of the Indian race is decreed, 
by a law of Providence which we can not gain- 
say. Barbarism omist give way to civilization. 
It is not only inevitable, but right^ that it 
should be so. The tide of empire, which has 
been flowing since the earliest times, has set 
steadily toward the "West. The Indian emi- 
grated in the wrong direction : and now, after 
the lapse of many centuries, the descendants of 
the first Asians, having girdled the globe, meet 
on the banks of the Mississippi ! On the one 
side, are enlightenment, civilization, Christian- 
ity : on the other, darkness, degradation, bar- 
barism: and the question arises, which shall 
give way % The Indian recedes : at the rate of 
seventeen miles a year,* the flood rolls on ! 
Already it has reached the shores of the Pa- 
cific : One century will reduce the whole con- 
tinent to the possession of the white man ; and, 

* This is De Tocqueville's estimate. — Democracy in America, 
vol. ii., chap. 10. 



THE INDIAN. 61 

then, tlie lesson wliicli all history teaches, will 
he again taught — that two distinct races can- 
not exist in the same country on equal terms. 
The weaker must be incorporated with the 
stronger — or exterminated.* 

* *' We may as well endeavor to make the setting sun stand 
still on the summit of the Rocky Mountains, as attempt to ar- 
rest the final extermination of the Indian race !" — Merivale 
on Colonization — Lecture 19. 

The principle stated in the text will apply with equal force 
to the negro-race; and those who will look the facts firmly in 
the face, can not avoid seeing, that the ultimate solution of the 
problem of American Slavery, can be nothing but the sword. 



II. 

THE YOYAGEUR. 



" Spread out earth's holiest records here. 
Of days and deeds to reverence dear : 
A zeal like this, what pious legends tell?" 



The sliapeless knight-errantrv of tlie thir- 
teenth and fourteenth centuries, rich as it was 
in romance and adventure, is not to be com- 
pared, in any vahiable characteristic, to the 
noiseless self-devotion of the men who first ex- 
plored the Western country. The courage of 
the knight was a part of his savage nature ; his 
confidence was in the strength of his own right 
arm ; and if his riiggedness was ever softened 
down by gentler thoughts, it was only when he 
asked forgiveness for his crimes, or melted in 
sensual idolatry of female beauty. 

It would be a curious and instructive inquiry, 
could we institute it with success, how much 
of the contempt of danger manifested by the 
wandering kniorht was referable to genuine 



TIIE VOYAGEUE. 63 

valor, and what proportion to the strength of 
a Milan coat, and the temper of a Toledo or 
Ferrara blade. And it would be still more 
curious, although perhaps not so instructive, to 
estimate the purity and fidelity of the heroines 
of chivalry ; to ascertain the amount of true de- 
votion given them by their admirers, " without 
hope of reward." 

But without abating its interest by invidious 
and ungrateful inquiries, we can see quite enough 
— in its turbulence, its cruelty, arrogance, and 
oppression — to make ns thank Heaven that 
"the days of chivalry are gone." And from 
that chaotic scene of rapine, raid, and murder, 
we can turn with pleasure to contemplate the 
truer, nobler chivalry — the chivalry of love and 
peace, whose weapons were the kindness of 
their hearts, the purity of their motives, and 
the self-denial of their lives. 

The term " voyageur''^ * literally signifies 
" traveller ;" and by this modest name are in- 
dicated some of the bravest adventurers the 
world has ever seen. But it is not in its usual, 
common-place signification that I employ the 

* In common use, this word was restricted so as to indicate 
only the boatmen, the carriers of that time; but I am writing 
of a period anterior, by many years, to the existence of the 
Trade which made their occupation. 



Q^ WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

word, nor yet in tliat w^hicli is given it bv most 
writers on the subject of early French settle- 
ments and explorations. Men are often aifected 
by the names given tliem, either of opprobrium 
or commendation ; but words are quite as fre- 
quently changed, restricted, or enlarged in 
meaning, by their application to men. For 
example : you apply the word soldier to a class 
of men ; and if robbery be one of the character- 
istics of that class, "soldier" will soon come to 
mean "robber" too. And thus, though the 
parallel is only logical, has it been with the 
term '-'"DoyageurP The class of men to whom 
it is applied were travellers — voyageura ; but 
they were more ; and as the habits and quali- 
ties of men came in time to be better under- 
stood than the meaning of French words, the 
term, used in reference to Western history, 
took much of its significance from the history 
and character of the men it assumed to de- 
scribe. Thus, im voyageur means not only a 
traveller, but a traveller with a purpose ; an 
adventurer among the "Western wilds ; a chiv- 
alrous missionary, either in the cause of sci- 
ence or religion. It includes high courage, 
burning zeal for church and country, and the 
most generous self-devotion. It describes such 
men as Marquette, La Salle, Joliet, Gravier, 



THE VOTAGEUR. 65 

and hundreds of others equally illustrious, who 
lived and died among the dangers and priva- 
tions of the wilderness ; who opened the way 
for civilization and Christianity among the 
savages, and won, many of them, crowns of 
martyrdom. 

They were almost all Frenchmen. The 
Spaniards who came to this continent were 
mere gold-seekers, thirsting only for wealth ; 
and if they sought to propagate Christianity, 
or rather the Christian name^ it was only a 
sanguinary bigotry that prompted them. On 
the other hand, the English emigrants came to 
take possession of the country for themselves. 
The conversion of the natives, or territorial ac- 
quisition for the mother-country, were to them 
objects of barely secondary importance. They 
believed themselves persecuted — some of them 
were persecuted — and they fled: it was only 
safety for themselves^ and the rich lands of the 
Indian, that they sought. Providence reserved 
for the French chevaliers and missionaries the 
glory of leaving their homes without compul- 
sion, real or imaginary, to penetrate an inhos- 
pitable wilderness ; to undergo fatigues ; to 
encoimter dangers, and endure privations of a 
thousand kinds ; enticed by no golden glitter, 
covetous of no riches, save such as are "laid 



66 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

np in liGcaven !" They came not as conquerors, 
but as ministers of peace, demanding only hos- 
pitality. They never attacked the savages with 
sword or fagot ; but extending hands not stained 
by blood, they justified their profession by relief 
and love and kindly offices. Sometimes, indeed, 
they received little tracts of land ; not seized 
by the hand of power, nor grasped by superior 
cunning, but possessed as the free gift of sim- 
ple gratitude ; and upon these they lived in 
peace, surrounded by savages, but protected 
by the respect inspired by blameless and be- 
neficent lives. Many of those whose vows per- 
mitted it, intermarried among the converted na- 
tives, and left the seeds of many meliorations in 
a stony soil ; and many of them, when they 
died, were as sincerely mourned by the simple 
children of the forest, as if they had been chiefs 
and braves. 

Such were the men of peace w^ho penetrated 
the wilderness through the French settlements 
in Canada, and preached the gospel to the 
heathen, where no white man had ever before 
been seen ; and it is particularly to this class 
that I apply the word at the head of this arti- 
cle. But the same gentle spirit pervaded other 
orders of adventurers — men of the sword and 
buckler, as well as of the stole and surplice. 



THE VOYAGEUR. 67 

These came to estal)lisli the dominion of La 
Belle France; but it was not to oppress the 
simple native, or to drive him from liis lands. 
Kindness marked even the conduct of the rongh 
soldier ; and sncli men as La Salle, and Iberville, 
who were stern enongh in war, and rigid enough 
in discipline, manifested always an anxious so- 
licitude for the rights^ as well as for the spiritual 
welfare of the Indian. They gave a generous 
confidence where they were conscious of no wish 
to injure; they treated frankly and on equal 
terms, with those whom their religion and their 
native kindness alike taught them to consider 
brethren and friends. Take, for example, that 
significant anecdote of La Salle, related by the 
faithful chronicler^ of his unfortunate expedi- 
tions. He was building the fort of Crevecceitr^ 
near the spot where now stands the city of Pe- 
oria, on the Illinois river; and even the name 
of his little fortress {Creveccmii\ Broken Heart) 
was a mournful record of his shattered fortunes. 
The means of carrying out his noble enterprise 
(the colonizing of the Mississippi valley) were 
lost ; the labor of years had been rendered in- 

* Joutel, who was one of La Salle's party, and afterward 
wrote an account of the enterprise, entitled Journal Hiato- 
rique, published in Paris, 1713. Its fidelity is as evident upon 
its face, as is the simplicity of the liistorian. 



68 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

effectual by one shipwreck ; his men were dis- 
contented, even mutinous, "attempting," says 
Hennepin, "first to poison, and then desert 
him ;" his mind was distracted, his heart al- 
most broken, by accumulated disasters. Sur- 
rounded thus by circumstances which might 
well have rendered him careless of the feelings 
of tlie savages around him, lie observed that 
tliey had become cold and distant — that in 
effect they no longer viewed him as their 
friend. The Ii-oquois," d lifting from the shores 
of Lake Ontario, where they liad always been 
the bitterest foes of the French, had instilled 
fear and hatred into their minds ; it was even 
said that some of his owm men had encouraged 
the growing discontent. In tliis juncture, what 
measures does he take? Strengthen his forti- 
fications, and prepare for war, as the men of 
other nations had done? Far from it. Soldier 
and adventurer as he was, he had no wish to 
shed innocent blood ; though with his force he 
might have defied all the nations about him. 
He went as a friend, frankly and generously, 

* This was in the winter of 1679-80; and the Five Nations, 
included in the general term Iroquois, had not then made the 
conquest upon whieli the English afterward founded their claim 
to the country. Tliey were, however, generally regarded aa 
enemies by all the Illinois tribes. 



THE VOYAGEUE. 69 

among tliem, [iiid demanded tlie reasons of 
their discontent. lie touched their hearts by 
his confidence, convinced them of his friend- 
ship, and attached them to himself more devo- 
tedly than ever. A whole history in one brief 
passage ! 

But it is more especially to the voyageicrs of 
the church — the men of faith and love — that I 
wish to direct my readers' attention : To such men 
as Le Carou, a Franciscan, w^tli all the zeal and 
courage and self-abnegation of his order, who 
wandered and preached among the bloody Iro- 
quois, and upon the w^aters of Huron, as early 
as 1616 : to Mesnard, a devoted missionary of 
the same order, who, in 1660, founded a mission 
at the Sault de Ste. Marie, and then went into 
the forest to induce the savages to listen to the 
glad tidings he had brought, and never came 
back : to Father Allouez, w^lio rebuilt the mis- 
sion five years afterward (the first of these 
houses of God which was not destroyed or 
abandoned), who subsequently crossed the 
lakes, and preached to the Indians on Fox 
river, where, in one of the villages of the Mi- 
amis and Mascoutens, Marquette found a cross 
still standing, after the lapse of years, where 
Allouez had raised it, covered with the offer- 
ings of the simple natives to an unknown God. 



70 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

He is the same, too, who founded Kaskaskia, 
probably the earliest settlement in the great 
valley, and whose history ends (significant 
fact!) with the record of his usefulness. To 
Father Pinet, who founded Cahokia, and was 
so successful in the conversion of the natives, 
that his little chapel could not contain the 
numbers who resorted to his ministrations : to 
Father Marest, the first preacher against intem- 
perance ; and, finally, to Marquette, the best 
and bravest of them all, the most single-hearted 
and unpretending ! 

Enthusiasm is a characteristic of the French 
nation ; a trait in some individuals elevated to 
a sublime self-devotion, and in others degraded 
to mere excitability. The vivacity, gesticula- 
tion, and grimace, which characterize most of 
them, are the external signs of this nature ; the 
calm heroism of the seventeenth century, and 
the insane devotion of the nineteenth, were 
alike its fruits. Tlie "ooyageur possessed it, in 
common with all his countrymen. But in him 
it was not noisy, turbulent, or egotistical ; 
military glory had "neither part nor lot" in 
his schemes ; the conquests he desired to make 
were the conquests of faith; the dominion he 
wished to establish was the dominion of Jesus. 



THE VOYAGEUR. 71 

In tlie pursuit of these objects, or ratlier of 
this single object, I have said he manifested the 
enthusiasm of his race; but it was the noblest 
form of that characteristic. The fire that 
burned in his bosom was fed by no selfish pur- 
pose. To have thought of himself, or of his 
own comforts, or glory, to the detriment of any 
Christian enterprise, however dangerous or un- 
promising, would, in his eyes, have been a 
deadly sin. 

At Sault de Ste. Marie, Father Marquette 
heard of many savages (whom he calls " God's 
children") living in barbarism, far to the west. 
With five boatmen and one companion, he at 
once set out for an unexplored, even unvisited 
wilderness. He had what they had not — the 
gospel ; and his heart yearned toward them, as 
the heart of a mother toward an afflicted child. 
He went to them, and bound them to him " in 
the bond of peace." If they received him kind- 
ly — as they usually did, for even a savage rec- 
ognises and respects genuine devotion — he 
preached to them, mediated among them, soft- 
ened their hearts, and gathered them into the 
fold of God. If they met him with arms in their 
hands — as they sometimes did, for savages, 
like civilized men, do not always know their 



72 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

friends — lie resolutely offered peace; and, in 
liis own simple and pious language, "God 
touched their hearts," and thej cast aside their 
weapons and received him kindly. 

But the voyageur had higher qualities than 
enthusiasm. He was capable of being so ab- 
sorbed in a cause as to lose sight of his own 
identity ; to forget that he was more than an 
instrument in the hands of God, to do God's 
work : and the distinction between these traits 
is broad indeed ! Enthusiasm is noisy, obtru- 
sive — self-abnegation is silent, retiring ; enthu- 
siasm is officious, troublesome, careless of time 
and place — self-abnegation is prudent, gentle, 
considerate. The one is active and fragment- 
ary — the other passive, but constant. 

Thus, when the untaught and simple native 
was to be converted, the missionary took note 
of the spiritual capacity as well as of the spirit- 
ual wants ; he did not force him to receive, at 
once, the whole creed of the church, as a mere 
enthusiast would have done ; for that wisdom 
would feed an infant with strong meats, even 
before it had drawn its mother's milk. ISTeither 
did he preach the gospel with the sword, like 
the Spaniard, nor with fire and fagot, like the 
puritan. He was wise as the serpent, but 
gentle as the dove. He took the wondering 



THE VOYAGEUK. 73 

Indian by the liand ; received him as a brother ; 
won him over to listen patiently ; and then 
taught him first that which he could most easily 
comprehend : he led him to address the throne 
of grace, or, in the language of the time, " to 
embrace the prayer ;" because even the savage 
believed in Deity. As his imderstanding was 
expanded, and his heart purified — as every 
heart must be which truly lifts itself to God — 
he gradually taught him the more abstruse and 
wonderful doctrines of the Church of Christ. 
Gently and imperceptibly he led him on, until 
the whole tremendous work was done. The un- 
tutored savage, if he knew nothing else, yet 
knew the name of his Redeemer. The bloody 
warfare, the feuds and jealousies of his tribe, 
if not completely overcome, at least were soft- 
ened and ameliorated. When he could not 
convert, he endeavored to humanize ; and 
among the tribes of the Illinois,* though they 
were never thoroughly Christianized, the influ- 
ence of the good fathers soon prevailed to abol- 
ish the barbarous practice of torturing cap- 
tives, f For though they might not embrace 

* A collective name, including a number, variously stated, 
Df different tribes confederated. 

f Annals of the West, by J. 11. Perkins and J. M. Peck, 
p. 679. St. Louis. 1850. 

4 



Y4: ^\•I:STEEN CIIAEACTKRS. 

the religion, the savages venerated its teachers, 
and loved them for their geiitleness. 

And this gentleness was not want of courage ; 
for never in the history of the world has truer 
valor been exhibited than that shown by the 
early missionary and his compeers, tlie first 
military adventurers ! Eead Joutel's account 
of the melancholy life and death of La Salle ; 
read the simj^le, unpretending " Journal" of 
Marquette;"'^ and compare their constancy and 
heroism with tliat displayed at any time in any 
cause ! But the voyageur possessed higher 
qualities than courage, also ; and here again we 
recur to his perfect abnegation of himself; his 
renunciation of all personal considerations. 

Courage takes note of danger, but defies it: 
the voyage^ir was careless of danger, because 
he counted it as nothing ; he gave it no thought, 
because it only afi'ected himself ; and he valued 
not his own safety and comfort, so long as he 
could serve the cause by forgetting them. Mere 
courage is combative, even pugnacious ; but 
the voyageur fought only " the good fight ;" he 
had no pride of conquest, save in the victories 
of Faith, and rather would suffer, himself, than 

* The substance of tlie Journal may be found, republished by 
Dr. Sparks, in the second edition of Butlers Kentucky, p. 493, 
et seq., and in vol. x. of ins American Biography, 



THE VOYAGEUE. 75 

inflict suffering upon others. Mere courage ia 
restless, impatient, purposeless : but the voya- 
geitr was content to remain wherever he could 
do good, tentative only in the cause of Christ, 
and distracted by no objects from his mission. 
His religion was his inspiration ; his conscience 
his reward. His system may have been per- 
verted, his zeal mistaken, his church a sham ; 
we are not arguing that question. But the 
purity of his intentions, the sincerity of his 
heart, can not be doubted ; and the most intol- 
erant protestant against "the corruptions of 
Rome" will, at least, admit that even Catholi- 
cism was better than the paganism of the sav- 
age. 

"There is not," says Macaulay,* "and there 
never was on this earth, a work of human poli- 
cy so well deserving of examination as the Ro- 
man Catholic Church." And certainly all other 
systems combined have never produced one 
tithe of the astounding results brought about 
by this alone. Whether she has taught truth 
or falsehood ; whether, on the whole, it had 
been better or worse for the cause of Christian- 
ity, had no such organization ever existed ; 
whether her claims be groundless or well- 
founded, are questions foreign to our purpose. 

* Misccllaniea, " Review of Ranke'a History of the Popes." 



76 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

But tliat her polity is tlie most powerful — the 
best adapted to the ends she has in view — of all 
that man has hitherto invented, there can be no 
doubt. Her missionaries have been more nu- 
merous and more successful, ay, and more de- 
voted, than those of any other church. They 
have gone where even the sword of the con- 
queror could not cleave his way. They have 
built churches in the wilderness, which were 
time-worn and crumbling when the first ' emi- 
grant penetrated the forests. They have preach- 
ed to youthful savages who never saw tlie face 
of another white man, thongli they lived to 
three-score years and ten. They have prayed 
upon the shores of lonely lakes and rivers, 
which were not mapped by geographers for 
centuries after their deaths. They have trav- 
elled on foot, unarmed and alone, where an 
army could not march. And everywhere their 
zeal and usefulness have ended only with their 
lives ; and always with their latest breath 
they have mingled prayers for the salvation of 
their flocks, with aspirations for the welfare of 
their church. For though countless miles of sea 
and land were between her and them, their 
loyalty and affection to the great spiritual 
Mother were never forgotten. "In spite of 
oceans and deserts ; of hunger and pestilence ; 



THE VOYAGEUR. T7 

of spies and penal laws; of dungeons and 
racks, of gibbets and quartering-blocks," they 
liave been found in every country, at all times, 
ever active and zealous. And everywhere, in 
palace, or hovel, or wilderness, they have been 
true sons of the church, loyal and obedient. 

An organization capable of producing such 
results is certainly well worth examination. 
For the influence she has wielded in ages past 
gives promise of her fuj;ure power; and it be- 
comes those who think her permanence perni- 
cious to the world, to avoid her errors and yet 
imitate her wisdom. If the system be a false- 
hood and a sham, it is a most gigantic and suc- 
cessful one, and it is of strange longevity. It 
has lived now more than fifteen hundred years, 
and one hundred and fifty millions of people 
yet believe it. If it be a counterfeit, it is high 
time the cheat were detected and exposed. Let 
those who have the truth give forth its light, 
that the falsehood may wither and die. Unless 
they do so, the life which has already extended 
over so many centuries may gain fresh vigor, 
and renew its youth. Even yet the vision of 
the essayist may be realized : " She may still 
exist in undiminished vigor, when some trav- 
eller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a 
vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch 



78 WESTEEN CHARACTEES. 

of London Bridge to skctcli the ruins of St. 
Paul's!" 

It was to this cliurcli that the early 'voya- 
geurs belonged. And I do not use that word 
*' belonged" as it is employed in modern times 
among protestants : I mean more than that con- 
venient, loosely-fitting profession, which, like a 
garment, is thrown on and oflT, as the exigencies 
of hypocrisy or cupidity may require. These 
men actually did helon^ to the church. They 
were hers, soul and body ; hers, in life and in 
death ; hers to go whithersoever she might di- 
rect, to do whatsoever she might appoint. They 
believed the doctrines they taught with an abid- 
ing, active faith ; and they were willing to be 
spent in preaching them to the heathen. 

It has always been a leading principle in the 
policy of the Koman church, to preserve her 
unity, and she has been enabled to do so, prin- 
cipally by the ramified and elastic polity for 
which she has been distinguished, to which she 
owes much of her extent and power, as well as 
no small part of the reproach so liberally be- 
stowed upon her in the pages of history. There 
are many "arms" in her service: a man must 
be impracticable indeed, when she can find no 
place in which to make him useful, or to pre- 



TTIK YOYACKrR. 70 

vent Li? henig mipcliicvons. Slie never drives 
one frohi tlie pale of tlie c^.iurcli who can benefit 
it as a communicant, or injure it as a dissenter. 
If lie became troublesome at home, she lias, in 
all ages, had enterprises on foot in which she 
might clothe him with authority, and send him 
to the uttermost parts of the earth ; thus ridding 
herself of a dangerous member, and, by the 
same act, enlarging the sphere of her own do- 
minion. Does an enthusiast become noisy, or 
troublesome upon unimportant points, the creed 
is flexible, and the mother will not quarrel with 
her child, for his earnestness may convince and 
lead astray more valuable sons and daughters. 
She w^ill establish a new order, of which the 
stubborn fanatic shall be founder ; the new or- 
der is built into the old church organization, 
and its founder becomes a dignitary of the ec- 
clesiastical establishment. Instead of becoming 
a dangerous heretic and schismatic, he is at- 
tached to orthodoxy by cords stronger than 
steel ; henceforth all his earnest enthusiasm 
shall be directed to the ad v^an cement of his or- 
der, and consequently of his church. Does 
one exhibit inflexibility in some matter of con- 
science upon which the church insists, there 
are many of God's children in the wilderness 
starving in spirit for the bread of life; and to 



80 WESTERN CITA^ACTEES. 

these, witli that hread, shall the refractory son 
be sent. He receives the commission ; 'departs 
upon his journey, glad to forget a difference 
with his spiritual superiors ; preaches to the 
heathen ; remembers only that the church is 
his mother; wins a crown of martja-dom, and is 
canonized for the encouragement of others ! 

Thus she finds a place for all, and work 
enongli for each ; and tlius are thrown off the 
elements of schism and rebellion. Those who 
had most courage in the cause of right ; all 
who were likely to be guided in matters of con- 
science by their own convictions ; the most 
sincere and single-hearted, the firmest and pur- 
est and bravest, were, in matters of controversy, 
the most dangerous champions, should they 
range themselves against the teaching of the 
church. Tliey were consequently, at the period 
of which I am writing, the men whom it was 
most desirable to send away ; and they were 
eminently well fitted for the arduous and wast- 
ing duties of the missionary. 

To this class belonged the large majority of 
the voyageur priests : men who might be incon- 
venient and obtrusive monitors, or formidable 
adversaries in controversy, if they remained at 
home; but who could only be useful — who of 
all men could be most useful — in gathering the 



THE VOYAGEUK. 81 

heathen into the fold of the church. There 
were, doubtless, a few of another class; the 
restless, intriguing, and disobedient, who, though 
not formidable, were troublesome. But even 
when these joined the missionary expeditions, 
they did but little to forward the work, and are 
entitled to none of the honor so abundantly due 
to their more sincere brethren. To this class, 
for example, belonged the false and egotistical 
Hennepin, who only signalized himself by en- 
deavoring to appropriate the reputation so 
hardly won by the brave and unfortunate La 
Salle.* 

It does not appear upon the record that any 
of these men — of either the restless and am- 
bitious, or of the better class — were literally 
sentaioay. But such has been the politic prac- 
tice of this church for many ages ; and we may 
safely believe, that when she was engaged in 
an unscrupulous and desperate contest for the 
recovery, by fair means or foul, of her immense 
losses, there might be many in the ranks of her 
pious priesthood whom it would be inconveni- 
ent to retain at home. And during that conflict 

* In a book which he published at Utrecht, in 1697, entitled 
A Neto Discovery of a Vant Country, he claims to have gone 
down the Mississippi to its mouth before La Salle. The whole 
book is a mere plagiarism. See Sparks's Life of La Salle, 
"where the vain father is summarily and justly disposed of. 
4* 



83 WESTERN CHARACTERS, 

especially, witli tlie most formidable enemies 
she ever had, she could not afford to be encum- 
bered. 

But whatever may have been tlie motives of 
their spiritual superiors, the missionaries them- 
selves were moved only by the considerations 
of which we have spoken — the truest piety 
and the most burning zeal. Of these influences 
they were conscious ; but we shall perhaps not 
do the character injustice if we add another 
spur to action, of which they were not con- 
scious. There is a vein of romance in the 
French comj)osition ; a love of adventure for 
the sake of the adventure itself, which, when 
not tamed or directed, makes a Frenchman fit- 
ful, erratic, and unreliable. When it is toned 
by i^ersonal ambition, it becomes a sort of Pala- 
din contempt for danger ; sometimes a crazy 
furor. "When accompanied by powerful intel- 
lect, and strengthened by concentration on a 
purpose, it makes a great commander — great 
for the quickness of his comprehension, the 
suddenness of his resolutions, the rapidity of 
their execution. When humanized by love, 
and quickened by religious zeal, it is purified 
of every selfish thought, and produces the chiv- 
alrous missionary, whom neither fire nor flood, 
neither desert nor pathless wilderness, shall de- 



THE VOYAGlCUl^. 83 

ter from obeying the command of Him who 
sent his gospel " unto every creature." And 
thus are even tliose traits, wliich so often curse 
the world with insane ambition and sanguinary 
Avar, turned by the power of a true benevolence 
to be blessings of incalculable value. 

Such were the purposes, such the motives, 
of this band of noble men ; and whatever may 
have been their errors, we must at least accord 
them the virtues of sincerity^ courage^ and self- 
denial. But let us look a little more closely at 
the means by which they accomplished under- 
takings which, to any other race of men, would 
have been not only impracticable, but utterly 
desperate. Take again, as the representative 
of his class, the case of Father Marq uette, than 
wdiom, obscure as his name is in the wastes of 
history, no man ever lived a more instructive 
and exemplary life. 

From the year 1668 to 1671," Marquette had 
been preaching at the Sault de Sainte Marie, a 
little below the foot of Lake Superior. He was 
associated with others in that mission; but the 
largest type, though it thrust itself no higher 
than the smallest, will make the broadest im- 
press on the page of history ; and even in the 

* Most of these dates mny be found in Bancroft's United 
States, vyj ill. 



84 WESTEKN CIIAKACTEES. 

meager record of that time, we may trace the 
influence of his gentle but firm spirit — those 
by whom he was accompanied evidently took 
their tone from him. But he was one of the 
Church's pioneers; that class whose eager, 
single-hearted zeal is always pushing forward 
to new conquests of the faith; and when he 
had put aside the weapons that opposed their 
way, to let his followers in, his thoughts at once 
went on to more remote and suflering regions. 
During his residence at tlie Sault, rumors and 
legends were continually floating in of the un- 
known country lying to the west — "the Land 
of the Great Hiver," the Indians called it — • 
until the mind of the good father became fully 
possessed with the idea of going to convert the 
nations who dwelt upon its shores. In the year 
1671, he took the first step in that direction, 
moving on to Point St. Ignatius, on the main 
land, north of the island of Mackinac. Here, 
surrounded by his little flock of wondering 
listeners, he preached until the spring of 1673 ; 
but all the time his wish to carry the gospel 
where its sound had never been heard was 
growing stronger. He felt in his heart the im- 
pulse of his calling, to lead the way and open 
a path for the advance of light. At the period 
mentioned, he received an order from the wise 



THE VOYAGEUR. 85 

intendant in ]^ew France, M. Talon, to explore 
the patliless wilderness to the westward. 

Then was seen the trne spirit of the man, and 
of his order. He gathered together no arma- 
ment ; asked the protection of no soldiers ; no 
part of the cargo of his little boat consisted of 
gunpowder, or of swords or guns ; his only arms 
were the spirit of love and peace ; his trust was 
in God for protection. Five boatmen, and one 
companion, the Sieur Joliet, composed his par- 
ty. Two light bark canoes were his only means 
of travelling ; and in^these he carried a small 
quantity of Indian corn and some jerked meat, 
his only means of subsistence. 

Thus equipped, lie set out through Green Bay 
and up Fox river, in search of a country never 
yet visited by any European. The Indians en- 
deavored to dissuade him, wondering at his 
hardihood, and still more at the motives which 
could induce him thus to brave so many dan- 
gers. They told him of the savage Indians, to 
whom it would be only pastime to torture and 
murder him ; of the terrible monsters which 
would swallow him and his companions, 
"canoes and all;" of the great bird called 
the Piasau^"^ which devoured men, after car- 

* The legend of the Piasau is well known. Within the rec- 
ollection of men nov7 living, rude paintings of the monster 



86 WESTKEN CIIAI^ACTKHS. 

rjing tliem in its horrible talons to inaccessible 
cliffs and mountains ; and of the scorcliing 
heat, which would wither him like a dry leaf. 
"I thanked them kindly," says the resolute but 
gentle father, " for their good counsel ; but I 
told them that I could not profit by it, since the 
salvation of souls was at stake, for which object 
I would be overjoyed to give my life." Sha- 
king them by the hand, one by one, as they ap- 
proached to bid him farewell, as they thought, 
for the last time, he turned his back upon safety 
and peace, and departed^ upon his self-denying 
pilgrimage. 

Let him who sits at ease in his cushioned 
2)ew at home — let him who lounges on his vel- 
vet-covered sofa in the pulpit, while his well- 
taught choir are singing ; who rises as the 
strains are dying, and kneels upon a cushioned 
stool to pray ; who treads upon soft carpets 
while he preaches, in a white cravat, to con- 
gregations clad in broadcloth, silk, and satin 
— let him pause and ponder on the difference 
between his works, his trials, his zeal — ay, and 
his glory, both of earth and heaven ! — and those 
of Father James Marcpiette ! 

were visible on the cliffs above Alton, Illinois. To these im- 
ages, when passing in their canoes, the Indians were accus- 
tomed to make offerings of maize, tobacco, and gunpowder. 
They are now quite obliterated. 



THE VOYAGEUR. 87 

The little party went upon their way ; the 
persuasions of their simple-hearted friends could 
not prevail, for the path of duty was before 
them, and the eje of God above. Having 
passed through Green Bay, and painfully 
dragged their canoes over the rapids of Fox 
river, they reached a considerable village, in- 
habited by the united tribes of Kickapoos, Mi- 
amis, and Mascoutimes. Here the}^ halted for 
a time, as the mariner, about to prove the dan- 
gers of a long voyage, lingers for a day in the 
last port he is likely to enter for many months. 
Be3^ond this point no white man had ever 
gone ; and here, if anywhere, the impulses of 
a natural fear should have made themselves 
felt. But we hear of no hesitation, no shrink- 
ing from the perilous task ; and we know from 
the unpretending "Journal" of the good lather, 
that a retreat, nay, even a halt — longer than 
was necessary to recruit exhausted strength, and 
renew the memory of former lessons among the 
natives — was never thought of. " My compan- 
ion," said Marquette, referring to Joliet, " is 
an envoy from the king of France, and I am 
an humble minister of God. I have no fear, he- 
ccmse I shall consider it the highest happiness 
to die in the service of mtj master P'* There 
was no bravado in this, for, unlike many from 



88 WESTERN CUARACTEES. 

whom you may, any day, liear the same decla-* 
ration, he set forth immediately to encounter 
the perils of his embassy. 

The Indians, unable to prevail with him to 
abandon the enterjDrise, made all their simple 
provision for his comfort ; and, furnishing him 
with guides and carriers across the portage to 
the Wisconsin river, parted with him as one 
bound for eternity. Having brought them 
safely to the river, the guides left them '' alone 
in that unknown country, in the hand of God ;" 
and, trusting to the protection of that hand^ 
they set out upon their journey down the 
stream."^ Seven days after, " with inexpres- 
sible joy," they emerged upon the bosom of 
the great river. During all this time they 
had seen no human being, though, probably, 
many a wandering savage had watched them 
from the covert of the bank, as they floated 
silently between the forests. It was an unbro- 
ken solitude, where the ripple of their paddles 
Bounded loudly on the ear, and their voices, 
subdued by the stillness, were sent back in 
lonely echoes from the shore. 

They were the first white men who ever 
floated on the bosom of that mighty riverf — 

* June 10, ICZS. 

f 1 mciin, of course, the upper Mis&issippi ; for De Soto bad 



THE VOYAGE UR. $9 

" tlie envoy from the king of France, and the 
embassador of the King of kings." What were 
their thoughts we know not, but from Mar- 
quette's simple " Journal ;" for, in returning to 
Quebec, Joliet's boat was wrecked in sight of 
the city, and all his papers lost.* Of the Sieur 
himself, we know nothing, save as the compan- 
ion of Marquette on this voyage ; but from 
this alone his fame is imj^erishable. 

They sailed slowly down the river, keeping 
a constant outlook upon the banks for signs of 
those for ^vhose spiritual welfare the good fa- 
ther had undertaken his perilous journey. But 
for more than sixty leagues not a human form 
or habitation could be seen. They had leisure, 
more than they desired, to admire the grand 
and beautiful scenery of that picturesque re- 
gion. In some places the cliiFs rose j^erpen- 
dicularly for hundreds of feet from the water's 
edge ; and nodding over their brows, and 
towering against the sky, were stately pines 
and cedars of the growth of centuries. Here, 

reached it lower down one hundred and thirty-two years be- 
fore. 

* It was announced, some months since, that our minister at 
Rome, Mr. Cass, had made discoveries in that city which threw 
more light upon this expedition. But how this can be, con- 
sistently with the fact stated in the text (about which there ie 
no doubt), I am at a loss to divine. 



90 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 

there Ifij between the river and tlie cliffs, a 
level prairie, waving in all the luxuriance of 
"the leafy month of Jnne ;" while beyond, the 
bhifis, enclosing the natural garden, softened 
by the distance, and clothed in evergreen, 
seemed but an extension of the primitive sa- 
vanna. Here, a dense, primeval forest grew 
quite down to the margin of the water; and, 
hanging from the topmost branches of the 
giant oaks, festoons of gray and graceful moss 
lay floating on the rippled surface, or dipped 
within the tide. Here, the large, smooth roots of 
trees half undermined, presented seats and foot- 
holds, where the pleasant shade invited them to 
rest, and shelter from the sultry summer sun. 
Anon, an oDen prairie, with no cliff or bluff 
beyond, extended undulating from the river, 
until the%ye, in straining to measure its extent, 
was wearied by the effort, and the plain be- 
came a waving sea of rainbow colors ; of green 
and yellow, gold and purple. Again, they 
passed a gravelly beach, on which the yellow 
sand was studded with a thousand sets of bril- 
liant shells, and little rivulets flowed in from 
level prairies, or stealthily crept out from un- 
der roots of trees or tangled vines, and hastened 
to be hidden in the bosom of the great fatlier 
of waters. 



TKE TOYAGTXT?. 91 

They floate;] on, tlirougli tlic dewj morning 
Lours, when the leaves were shining in the sun- 
light, and the birds were singing joyously ; be- 
fore the summer lieat had dried the moisture, 
or had forced the feathered songsters to the 
shade. At noon, when the silence made the 
solitude oppressive ; when the leaves hung 
wilting down, nor fluttered in the fainting 
wind : when the prairies were no longer wa- 
ving like the sea, but trembling like the atmo- 
sphere around a heated furnace : when the mi- 
rage hung upon the plain : tall trees were seen 
growing in the air, and among tliem stalked 
the deer, and elk, and buffalo : while between 
them and the ground, the brazen sky was glow- 
ing with the sun of June : when nothing living 
could be seen, save when the voyageur'^s ap- 
proach would startle some wild beast slaking 
liis thirst in tlie cool river, or a flock of water- 
fowl were driven from their covert, where the 
willow branches, drooping, dipped their leaves 
of silvery gray within the water. They floated 
on till evening, when the sun approached the 
prairie, and his broad, round disc, now shorn of 
its dazzling beams, defined itself against the 
sky and grew florid in the gatliering haze: 
when the birds began to rea})pear, and flitted 
noiselessly among the trees, in busy prepara- 



92 WESTEEX CIIAEACTEES. 

tion for tlie iiiglit: when beasts of prey crept 
out from lurking-places, where they had dozed 
and panted through the hours of noon : when 
the wilderness grew vocal w^itli the mingled 
sounds of lowing buffalo, and screaming pan- 
ther, and howling wolf; until the shadows rose 
fi'om earth, and travelled from the east; until 
the dew began to fall, the stars came out, and 
night brought rest and dreams of home ! 

Thus they floated on, " from morn till dewy 
eve," and still no sign of human life, neither 
habitation nor footprint, until one day — it was 
the twenty-fifth of June, more than two weeks 
since they had entered the wilderness — in 
gliding past a sandy beach, they recognised 
the impress of a naked foot ! Following it for 
some distance, it grew into a trail, and then a 
path, once more a place where human beings 
habitually walked. 

Whose feet had trodden down the grass, what 
strange people lived on the prairies, they knew 
not, what dangers might await them, they cared 
not. These w^ere the people whom the good 
father had come so far to convert and save ! 
And now, again, one might expect some natural 
hesitation ; some doubt in venturing among 
those who were certainly barbarians, and who 
might, for aught they knew, be brutal canni- 



THE VOYAGEUR. 93 

bals. We could forgive a little wavering, in- 
deed, especially when we think of the frightful 
stories told them by the ISTorthern Indians of 
this very people. But fear was not a part of 
these men's nature ; or if it existed, it lay so 
deep, buried beneath religious zeal and pious 
trust, that its voice never reached the upper 
air. Leaving the boatmen with the canoes, 
near the mouth of the river now called Des 
Moines, Marquette and Joliet set out alone, 
to follow up the trail, and seek the people 
who had made it. It led them to an open 
prairie, one of the most beautiful in the present 
state of Iowa, and crossing this, a distance of 
six miles, they at last found themselves in the 
vicinity of three Indian villages. The very 
spot* where the chief of these stood might now 
be easily found, so clear, though brief, is the 
description of the simple priest. It stood at the 
foot of a long slope, on the bank of the river 
Moingona (or Des Moines), about six miles due 
west of the Mississippi ; and at the top of the 
rise, at the distance of half a league, were built 

* The place of Marquette's landing — which should be clas- 
sic ground — from his description of the country, and the dis- 
tance he specifies, could not have been far from the spot where 
the city of Keokuk now stands, a short distance above the 
mouth of the Des Moines. The locality should, if possible, be 
determined. 



91 WESTEEN CHAKACTEES. 

the two others. "We commended ourselves 
unto God," writes the gentle father ; for they 
knew not at what moment they might need his 
intervention ; and crying out with a loud voice, 
to announce their approach, they calmly ad- 
vanced toward the group of lodges. At a short 
distance from the entrance to the village, they 
were met by a deputation of four old men, who, 
to their great joy, they perceived bore a richly- 
ornamented pipe of peace, the emblem of friend- 
ship and hospitality. Tendering the mysterious 
calumet, they informed the Frenchmen that 
they belonged to one of the tribes called " Illi- 
nois" (or " Men"), and invited them to enter 
their lodges in peace : an invitation which the 
weary vogagews were but too glad to accept. 

A great council was held, with all the rude 
but imposing ceremonies of the grave and dig- 
nified Indian ; and before the assembled chiefs 
and braves, Marquette published his mission 
from his heavenly Master. Passing, then, from 
spiritual to temporal things — for we do not 
hear of any address from Joliet, who probably 
was no orator — he spoke of his earthly king, 
and of his viceroy in New France ; of his vic- 
tories over the Iroquois, the dreaded enemies 
of the peaceful Western tribes; and then made 
many inquiries about the Mississippi, its tribu- 



THE V(A'Agei:k. 95 

tarles, and the nations who dwelt npon tlieii* 
banks. His advances were kindly received, 
liis questions frankly answered, and tlie council 
broke up with mutual assurances of good-will. 
Then ensued the customary festival. Homminy, 
fish, buffalo, and dog-meat^ were successively 
served up, like the courses of a more modern 
table ; but of the last " we declined to partake," 
writes the good father, no doubt much to the 
astonishment and somewhat to the chagrin of 
their hospitable friends ; for even yet, among 
the western Indians, dog-meat is a dish of honor. 
Six days of friendly intercourse passed pleas- 
antly away, diversified by many efforts on the 
part of Marquette to instruct and convert the 
docile savages. ]^or were these entirely with- 
out result ; they excited, at least, the wish to 
hear more ; and on his departure tliey crowded 
round him, and urgently requested him to come 
again among them. He promised to do so, a 
pledge which he afterward redeemed. But 
now he could not tarry ; he was bent upon his 
hazardous voyage down the Great River, and 
he knew that he was only on the threshold of 
his grand discoveries. Six hundred warriors, 
commanded by their most distinguished chief, 
accompanied him back to his boats; and, after 
hanging around his neck the great calumet, to 



96 WESTEEN CIIA11ACTEE3. 

protect liim among the liostile nations of the 
south, they parted with him, praying that the 
Great Spirit, of whom he had told them, might 
give him a prosperous voyage, and a speedy 
and safe return. 

These were the first of the nations of the 
Mississij^pi Valley visited by the French, and 
it is from them that the state of Illinois takes 
its name. They were a singularly gentle people ; 
and a nature originally peaceful had been ren- 
dered .almost timid by the cruel inroads of the 
murderous Iroquois.* These, by their traffic 
with the Dutch and English, of [N'ew-York, and 
by their long warfare with the French of Cana- 
da, had acquired the use of fire-arms, and, of 
course, possessed an immense advantage over 
those who were armed only with the primitive 
bow and arrow. The restless and ambitious 
spirit of the singular confederacy, usually call- 
ed the Five I^ations, and known among their 
neighbors by the collective name of Iroquois, 
had carried their incursions even as far as 
the hunting-grounds of the Shawanese, about 

* It was by virtue of a treaty of purchase — signed at Fort 
Stanwix on the 5th of November, 1768 — with the Six Nations, 
who claimed the country as their conquest, that the British as- 
flerted a title to the country west of the Alleghanies, "Western 
Virginia, Kentucky, etc. 



THE VOYAGEUK. 97 

the moutli of the Ohio; and their successes 
had made them a terror to all the western 
tribes. The Illinois, therefore, knowing the 
French to be at war with these formidable ene- 
mies, were the more anxious to form an alliance 
with them ; and the native gentleness of their 
manners was, perhaps, increased bj the hope 
of assistance and protection. But, whatever 
motives may have influenced 'them, besides 
their natural character, their forethought was 
of vital service to the wanderers in the countries 
of the south, whither they proceeded. 

The little party of seven resumed their voy- 
age on the last day of June, and floating with 
the rapid current, a few days afterward passed 
the rocks, above the site of Alton, where was 
painted the image of the ravenous Piasau^ of 
which they had been told by the E'orthern In- 
dians, and on the same day reached the mouth 
of the Pekitanoni, the Indian name for the 
rapid and turbulent Missouri. Inwardly resolv- 
ing, at some future time, to ascend its muddy 
current, to cross the ridge beyond, and, de- 
scending some river which falls into the Great 
South sea (as the Pacific was then called), to 
publish the gospel to all the people of the con- 
tinent, the zealous father passed onward toward 
the south. Coasting slowly along the wasting 



98 AVESTEKN CIIAEACTEES. 

shore, lingering in tlie months of rivers, or ex- 
ploring dense forests in the hope of meeting the 
natives, they continued on their course until 
they reached the mouth of a river which they 
called the Ouabache^ or Wabash, none otlier 
than the beautiful Ohio."^ Here they found 
the advanced settlement of Sliawanese, who had 
been pushed toward the southwest by the in- 
cessant attacks of the Iroquois. But by this 
time, fired with the hope of ascertaining the 
outlet of the Mississippi, they postponed their 
visit to these people until their return, and 
floated on. 

It is amusing, as well as instructive, to observe 
how little importance the travellers gave to the 
river Ohio, in their geographical assumptions. 
In the map published by Marquette with his 
"Journal," the " Oucibisquigou^^'' as he denomi- 
nates it, in euphonious French-Indian, com- 
pared to the Illinois or even to the Wisconsin, 
is but an inconsiderable rivulet ! The lonely 

* The geographical mistakes of the early French explorers 
have led to some singular discussions about Western history — 
have even been used by diplomatists to support or weaken 
territorial claims. Such, for example, is the question concern- 
ing the antiquity of Vincennes, a controversy founded on the 
mistake noticed in tlie text. Vide Western Annals. 2d Ed. 
Revised by J. M. Peck. 



THE VOYAGEUK. 99 

wanderers were mucli farther from the English 
settlements than they supposed ; a mistake into 
which they must have been led, by hearing of 
the incursions of the Iroquois ; for even at that 
early day they could not but know that the 
head-waters of the Ohio were not distant from 
the hunting-grounds of that warlike confeder- 
acy. Even this explanation, however, scarcely 
lessens our wonder that they should have known 
80 little of courses and distances ; for had this 
river been as short as it is here delineated, they 
would have been within four hundred miles of 
Montreal. 

After leaving the Ohio, they suffered much 
from the climate and its incidents; for they 
were now approaching, in the middle of July, 
a region of perpetual summer. Mosquitoes 
and other venomous insects (in that region we 
might even call them ravenous insects) became 
intolerably annoying ; and the voyageurs began 
to think they had reached the country of the 
terrible heats, which, as they had been warned 
in the north, " would wither them up like a dry 
leaf" But the prospect of death by torture and 
savage cruelty had not daunted them, and they 
were not now disposed to be turned back by 
any excess of climate. Arranging their sails 
in tlie form of awnings to protect them from 



100 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

the sun bj daj and the dews by night, they 
resolutely pursued their way. 

Following the course of the river, they soon 
entered the region of cane-brakes, so thick that 
no animal larger than a cat could penetrate 
them ; and of cotton-wood forests of immense 
size and of unparalleled density. They were 
far beyond the limits of every Indian dialect 
with which they had become acquainted — 
were, in fact, approaching the region visited 
by De Soto, on his famous expedition in search 
of Juan Ponce de Leon's fountain of youth."^ 
The country was possessed by the Sioux and 
Chickasaws, to whom the voyageurs were total 
strangers ; but they went on without fear. In 
the neighborhood of the southern boundary of 
the j)resent state of Arkansas, they were met 
in hostile array by great numbers of the na- 
tives, who approached them in large canoes 
made from the trunks of hollow trees. But 
Marquette held aloft the symbol of peace, the 
ornamented calumet, and the hearts of the sav- 
ages were melted, as the pious father believed, 
by the touch of God. They threw aside their 

* In 1541, De Soto crossed the Mississippi about the thirty- 
fifth parallel of latitude, or near the northern boundary of the 
state of that name. It is not certain how far below this Mar- 
quette went, though we are safe in saying that he did not turn 
back north of that limit. 



TUE VOYAGEUE. 



101 



weapons, and received the strangers with rude 
but hearty hospitality. They escorted tliem, 
with many demonstrations of welcome, to the 
village of Michigamia ; and, on the following 
day, having feasted their strange guests plenti- 
fully, though not with the unsavory meats of the 
Illinois, they marched in triumphal procession 
to the metropolis of Akansea, about ten leagues 
distant, down the river. 

This was the limit of their voyage. Here 
they ascertained, beyond a doubt, that the Mis- 
sissippi flowed into the gulf of Mexico, and not, 
as had been conjectured, into the great South 
sea. Here they found the natives armed with 
axes of steel, a proof of their traffic with the 
Spaniards ; and thus was the circle of discovery 
complete, connecting the explorations of the 
French with those of the Spanish, and entirely 
enclosing the possessions of the English. No 
voyage so important has since been under- 
taken—no results so great have ever been 
produced by so feeble an expedition. The 
discoveries of Marquette, followed by the en- 
terprises of La Salle and his successors, havo 
influenced the destinies of nations ; and passing 
over all political speculations, this exploration 
first threw open a valley of greater extent, fer- 



102 WESTERN CnARACTEKS. 

tility, and commercial advantages, than any 
other in the world. Had either the French or 
the Spanish possessed the stubborn qualities 
which Kold^ as thej had tlie useful which dis- 
cover^ the aspect of this continent would, at 
this day, have been far diiferent. 

On the seventeenth of Jnly, having preached 
to the Indians the glory of God and the Catho- 
lic faith, and proclaimed the power of the 
Grand Monarque — for still we hear nothing 
of speech-making or delivering credentials on 
the part of Joliet — he set out on his return. 
After severe and wasting toil for many days, 
they reached a point, as Marquette supposed, 
some leagues below the mouth of the Moin- 
gona, or Des Moines. Here they left the Mis- 
sissippi, and crossed the country between that 
river and the Illinois, probably passing through 
the very country which now bears the good fa- 
ther's name, entering the latter stream at a 
point not far from the present town of Peoria. 
Proceeding slowly np that calm river, preach- 
ing to the tribes along its banks, and partaking 
of their hospitality, he was at last conducted to 
Lake Michigan, at Chicago, and by the end of 
September was safe again in Green Bay, having 
travelled, since the tenth of June, more than 
three thousand miles. 



THE VOYAGKUR. 103 

It might have heeii expected that one wlio 
Lad made so magnificent a discovery — who 
had braved so much and endured so much — 
would wish to announce in person, to the au- 
thorities in Canada, or in France, the results 
of his expedition. Na}^ it would not have 
been unpardonable had he desired to enjoy, 
after his labors, something of the consideration 
to which their success entitled him. And, cer- 
tainly, no man could ever have approached his 
rulers with a better claim upon their notice than 
could the unpretending voyageiir. But vain- 
glory was no more a part of his nature, than 
was fear. The unaspiring priest remained at 
Green Bay, to continue, or rather to resume, as 
a task laid aside only for a time, his ministra- 
tions to the savages. Joliet hastened on to 
Quebec to report the expedition, and Mar- 
quette returned to Cliicago, for the purpose of 
preaching the gospel to the Miami confederacy; 
several allied tribes w^ho occupied the country 
between Lake Michigan and the Des Moines 
river. Here again he visited the Illinois, 
speaking to them of God, and of the religion 
of Jesus; thus redeeming a promise w^hicli he 
had made them, when on his expedition to the 
South. 

B.ut his useful, unambitious life was drawing 



104 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

to a close. Let us describe its last scene in the 
words of our accomplished historian : — • 

" Two years afterward, sailing from Chicago 
to Mackinac, he entered a little river in Michi- 
gan. Erecting an altar, he said mass, after the 
rites of the Catholic church ; then, begging the 
men who conducted his canoe to leave him 
alone for a half hour, 

'In the darkling wood, 

Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, 
And offered to the mightiest solemn thanks 
And supplication.' 

At the end of the half hour they went to seek 
him, and he loas no more. The good mission- 
ary, discoverer of a world, had fallen asleep on 
the margin of the stream that bears his name. 
Near its mouth, the canoe-men dug his grave 
in the sand. Ever after, the forest rangers, in 
their danger on Lake Michigan, would invoke 
his name. The peoj)le of the West will build 
his monument."* 

The monument is not yet built ; though the 
name of new counties in several of our western 
states testifies that the noble missionary is not 
altogether forgotten, in the land where he spent 
so many self-denying years. 

* Bancroft's History of the United States, vol. iii., p. 161, et 
seq., where the reader maj look for most of these dates. 



THE VOYAGE UK. 105 

Sncli was the voyageicr priest; the first, in 
chronological order, of the succession of singu- 
lar men who have explored and peopled the 
great West. And though many who have fol- 
lowed him have been his equals in courage and 
endurance, none have ever possessed the same 
combination of heroic and unselfish qualities. 
It ought not to be true that this brief and cur- 
sory sketch is the first distinct tribute yet paid 
to his virtues ; for no worthier subject ever em- 
ployed the pen of the poet or historian. 

Note. — Struck with the fact that the history of this class of 
men, and of their enterprises and sufferings, has never been 
written, except by themselves in their simple "Journals" and 
" Relations" — for the resume given of these by Sparks, Ban- 
croft, and others, is of necessity a mere unsatisfactory abstract 
— the writer has for some time been engaged in collecting and 
arranging materials, with the intention of supplying the want. 
The authorities are numerous and widely scattered ; and such 
a work ought to be thoroughly and carefully written, so that 
much time and labor lies between the author and his day of 
publication. Should he be spared, however, to finish the work, 
he hopes to present a picture of a class of men, displaying as 
much of wf ue devotion, genuine courage, and self-denial, in the 
humble walk of the missionary, as the pages of history show 
in any other department of human enterprise. 

5* 



/flu 



III. 

THE PIONEEK. 



" I hrar the tn-nd of pioneers, 
Of nations yet to be — 
The first low wash of waves where soon 
Shall roll a human sen." 

Whittikb. 

The axe rani; pharply 'mid those forest shades 
Which, from creation, toward the sky had towered 
lu unshorn beauty." 

SiGOURNSY. 



Next, ill clironological order, after the mis- 
sionary, came the military adventurer — of 
which chiss La Salle was the best representa- 
tive. But the expeditions led by these men, 
were, for the most pai't, wild and visionary en- 
terprises, in jnirsuit of unattainable ends. They 
were, moreover, unskilfully managed and un- 
fortunately terminated — generally ending in 
the defeat, disappointment, and death of those 
who had set them on foot. They left no per- 
manent impress upon the country ; the most 




r II r, I' I .) .\ i: i: k. 



THE PIONEER. 107 

acute moral or political vision can not now de- 
tect a trace of their influence, in the aspect of 
tlie lands they penetrated ; and, so far from 
hastening the settlement of the Great Yalley, it 
is more probable that their disastrous failures 
ratlier retarded it — by deterring others from 
the undertaking. Their history reads like a 
romance ; and tlieir cliaracters would better 
grace the pages of fiction, than the annals of 
civilization. Further than this brief reference, 
therefore, I find no place for them, in a work 
which aims only to notice those who either aid- 
ed to produce, or indicated, the characteristics 
of the society in which they lived. 

Soon after them, came the Indian-traders — 
to whose generosity so many of the captives, 
taken by the natives in those early times, 
were indebted for their ransom. But — not- 
w^ithstanding occasional acts of charity — their 
unscrupulous rapacity, and, particularly, their 
introduction of spirituous liquors among the 
savages, furnish good reason to doubt, whether, 
on the whole, they did anything to advance the 
civilization of the lands and people they visit- 
ed. And, as we shall have occasion to refer 
again, though briefly, to the character in a sub- 
sequent article, we will pass over it for the pres- 
ent, and hasten on to the Pioneer. 



108 WESTEBN CHAEACTEKS. 

Of this class, there are two sub-divisions : the 
floatiDg, transitory, and erratic frontierman — 
inchiding the hunter, the trapper, the scout 
and Indian-fighter : men who can not be consid- 
ered citizens of any country, but keep always a 
little in advance of permanent emigration. "With 
this division of the class, we have little to do : 
first, because they are already well understood, 
by most readers in this country, through the 
earlier novels of Cooper, their great delineator ; 
and, sec.ond, because, as we have intimated, our 
business is chiefly with those, whose footprints 
have been stamped upon the country, and 
whose influence is traceable in its civilization. 
"We, therefore, now desire to direct attention to 
the other sub-division — the genuine ''settler;" 
the firm, unflinching, permanent emigrant, who 
entered the country to till the land and to pos- 
sess it, for himself and his descendants. 

And, in the first place, let us inquire what 
motives could induce men to leave regions, 
where the axe had been at work for many 
years — where the land was reduced to culti- 
vation, and the forest reclaimed from the wild 
beast and the wilder savage — where civiliza- 
tion had begun to exert its power, and society 
had assumed a legal and determined shape — 
to depart from all these things, seeking a new 



THE PIONEEK. 109 

home in an inhospitable wilderness, where they 
could only gain a footing by sev^ere labor, con- 
stant strife, and sleepless vigilance? To be 
capable of doing all this, from amj motive, a 
man must be a strange compound of qualities; 
but that compound, strange as it is, has done, 
and is doing, more to reclaim the west, and 
change the wilderness into a garden, than all 
other causes combined. 

A prominent trait in the character of the 
genuine American, is the desire " to better his 
condition" — a peculiarity which sometimes 
embodies itself in the disposition to forget the 
good old maxim, " Let well-enough alone," and 
not unfrequently leads to disaster and suffer- 
ing. \ A thorough Yankee — using that word as 
the English do, to indicate national, not sec- 
tional, character — is never satisfied with doing 
well ; he always underrates his gains and his 
successes; and, though to others he may be 
boastful enough, and may, even truly, rate the 
profits of his enterprise by long strings of 
" naught," he is always whispering to himself, 
"I ought to do better." If he sees any one 
accumulating property faster than himself, he 
becomes emulo'is and discontented — he is apt 
to think, unless he goes more rapidly than any 



110 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 

one else, that he is not moving at all. If he 
can find no one of his neighbors advancing 
toward fortune, with longer strides than he, he 
will imagine some successful " speculator," to 
whom he will compare himself, and chafe at 
his inferiority to a figment of his own fancy. 
If he possessed " a million a minute," he w^ould 
cast about for some profitable employment, in 
which he might engage, " to pay expenses." 
He will abandon a silver-mine, of slow, but cer- 
tain gains, for the gambling chances of a gold 
"placer;" and if any one within his knowledge 
dig out more wealth than he, he will leave the 
" diggings," though his success be quite en- 
couraging, and go quixoting among the islands 
of the sea, in search of pearls and diamonds. 
"With the prospect of improvement in his for- 
tunes — whether that prospect be founded upon 
reason, be a naked fancy, or the oflTspring of 
mere discontent — he regards no danger, cares 
for no hardship, counts no suffering. Every- 
thing must bend before the ruling passion, " to 
better his condition." 

His spirit is eminently encroaching. Rather 
than give up any of his own "rights," he will 
take a part of what belongs to others. What- 
ever he thinks necessary to his welfare, to that 
he believes himself entitled. To whatever 



THE PIONEER. Ill 

point lie desires to reach, lie takes the etraight- 
est course, even though the way lie across the 
corner of his neighbor's field. Yet he is in- 
tensely jealous of his own possessions, and 
warns off all trespassers with an imperial men- 
ace of " the utmost penalty of the law." He 
has, of course, an excellent opinion of himself 
— and justly: for when not blinded by cupid- 
ity or vexed by opposition, no man can hold 
the scales of justice with a more even hand. 

He is seldom conscious of having done a 
wrong : for he rarely moves until he has ascer- 
tained " both the propriety and expediency of 
the motion." He has, therefore, an instinctive 
aversion to all retractions and apologies. He 
has such a proclivity to the forward movement, 
that its opposite, even when truth and justice 
demand it, is stigmatized, in his vocabulary, 
by odious and ridiculous comparisons. He is 
very stubborn, and, it is feared, sometimes mis- 
takes his obstinacy for firmness. He thinks a 
safe retreat worse than a defeat with slaughter. 
Yet he never rests under a reverse, and, though 
manifestly prostrate, will never acknowledge 
that he is beaten. A check enrages him more 
than a decided failure : for so long as his end is 
not accomplished, nor defeated, he can see no 
reason why he should not succeed. If his forces 



112 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

are driven back, sliattered and destroyed, he is 
not cast down, but angrj — he forthwith swears 
vengeance and another triaL He is quite in- 
satiable — as a failure does not dampen him, 
success can never satisfy him. His plans are 
always on a great scale ; and, if they sometimes 
exceed his means of execution, at least, " he 
who aims at the sun," though he may lose his 
arrow, " will not strike the ground." He is a 
great projector — but he is eminently practi- 
cal, as well as theoretical ; and if lie cannot 
realize his visions, no other man need try. 

He is restless and migratory. He is fond of 
change, for the sake of the change ; and he will 
have it, though it bring him only new labors 
and new hardships. He is, withal, a little sel- 
fish — as might be supposed. He begins to 
lose his attachment to the advantages of his 
home, so soon as they are shared by others. 
He does not like near neighbors — has no affec- 
tion for the soil ; he will leave a place on which 
he has expended much time and labor, as soon 
as the region grows to be a "settlement." 
Even in a town, he is dissatisfied if his next 
neighbor lives so near that the women can 
gossip across the division-fence. He likes to 
be at least one day's journey from the nearest 
plantation. 



THE PIONEER. 113 

I once heard an old pioneer assign as a rea- 
son why he must emigrate from western Illi- 
nois, the fact that " people were settling right 
under his nose" — and the farm of his nearest 
neighbor was twelv^e miles distant, by the sec- 
tion lines ! lie moved on to Missouri, but there 
tlie same "impertinence" of emigrants soon fol- 
lowed him ; and, abandoning his half-finished 
" clearing," he packed his family and house- 
hold goods in a little wagon, and retreated, 
across the phains to Oregon. He is — or was, 
two years ago — living in the valley of the 
"Willamette, where, doubtless, he is now cha- 
fing under the afiiiction of having neighbors in 
the same region, and nothing but an ocean be- 
yond. 

His character seems to be hard-featured. 

But he is neither unsocial, nor morose. He 
welcomes the stranger as heartily as the most 
hospitable patriarch. He receives the sojourn- 
er at his fireside without question. He regales 
him with the best the house affords : is always 
anxious to have him " stay another day." He 
cares for his horse, renews his harness, laughs 
at his stories, and exchanges romances with him. 
He hunts with him ; fishes, rides, walks, talks, 
eats, and drinks with him. His wife washes 
and mends the stranger's shirts, and lends him 



114 WESTEKN CnAKACTERS. 

a needle aiui thread to sew a button on liis 
onlv pair of pantaloons. The children sit on 
]iis knee, the dog lies at his feet, and accom- 
panies him into the woods. The whole family 
are his friends, and only grow cold and distant 
when thev learn that he is looking for land, 
and thinks of '' settling'' within a few leagues. 
It' nothing of the sort occurs — and this only 
** leaks out" by accident, for the pioneer never 
pries inquisitively into the business of hisguest, 
he keeps him as long as he can ; and when he 
can stay no longer, fills his saddle-bags with 
flitches of bacon and " pones'' of corn-bread, 
shakes him heartily by the hand, exacts a 
promise to stop again on his return, and bids 
him '"God-speed" on his journey. 

Such is American character, in the manifes- 
tations which have most affected the settlement 
and development of the "V7est ; a compound of 
many noble qualities, with a few — and no na- 
tion is without such — that are not quite so re- 
spectable. All these, both good and bad, wei*e 
possessed by the early pioneer in an eminent, 
sometimes in an extravao^ant dcirree ; and the 
circumstances, by which he found himself sur- 
rounded after his emigration to tlie "West, 
tended forciblv to their exa^r^eration. 



THE riONEER. 115 

But tlic qualities — positive und negative — 
above enumerated, were, many of them, at 
least, peculiarities belonging to the early emi- 
grant, as much before as after his removal. 
And there were others, quite as distinctly 
marked, called into activity, if not actually 
created by his life in the wilderness. Such, 
for example, was his self-reliance — his con- 
fidence in his own strength, sagacity, and cour- 
age. It was but little assistance that he ever 
required from liis neighbors, though no man 
was ever more willing to render it to others, in 
the hour of need. He was the swift avenger 
of his own wrongs, and he never appealed to 
another to ascertain his rights. Legal tribu- 
nals were an abomination to him. Government 
functionaries he hated, almost as the Irish hate 
excisemen. Assessments and taxes he could 
not endure, for, since he was his own protector, 
he had no interest in sustaining the civil author- 
ities. 

Military organizations he despised, for sub- 
ordination was no part of his nature. lie stood 
np in the native dignity of manhood, and called 
no mortal his superior. "When he joined his 
neighbors, to avenge a foray of the savages, he 
joined on the most equal terms — each man 
was, for the time, his own captain ; and when 



110 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

tlie leader was chosen — for the pioneers, with 
all their personal independence, were far too 
rational to underrate the advantages of a head 
in the hour of danger — each voice was counted 
in the choice, and the election might fall on 
any one. But, even after such organization, 
every man was fully at liberty to abandon the 
expedition, whenever he became dissatisfied, or 
thought proper to return home. And if this 
want of discipline sometimes impaired the 
strength, and rendered unavailing the eiforts, 
of communities, it at least fostered the manly 
spirit of personal independence ; and, to keep 
that alive in the breasts of a people, it is worth 
while to pay a yearly tribute, even though that 
tribute be rendered unto the King of Terrors ! 

This self reliance was not an arrogant and 
vulgar egotism, as it has been so often repre- 
sented in western stories, and the tours of super- 
ficial travellers. It was a calm, just estimate 
of his own capabilities — a well-grounded con- 
tfidence in his own talents — a clear, manly 
jinderstanding of his own individual rights, dig- 
nity, and relations. Sucli is the western defini- 
tion of independence ; and if there be anything 
of it in the w^estern character at the present day, 
it is due to the stubborn and intense individu- 
ality of the first pioneer. He it was who laid 



THE PIONEER. 117 

the foundation of our social fabric, and it is his 
spirit which yet purv^ades our peoj^le. 

The quality whi-cli next appears, in analyzing 
this cliaracter, is his courtage. 

It was not mere physical courage, nor was it 
stolid carelessness of danger. The pioneer 
knew, perfectly well, the full extent of the 
peril that surrounded him ; indeed, he could 
not be ignorant of it; for almost every day 
brought some new memento, either of his sav- 
age foe, or of the prowling beast of prey. He 
ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and gathered, 
with the rifle slung over his shoulders ; and, at 
every turn, he halted, listening, with his ear 
turned toward his home ; for well he knew 
that, any moment, the scream of his wife, or 
the wail of his children, might tell of the up- 
lifted tomahawk, or the murderous scalping- 
knife. 

His courage, then, was not ignorance of dan- 
ger — not that of the child, which thrusts its 
hand within the lion's jaws, and knows naught 
of the penalty it braves. His ear was ever 
listening, his eye was always watching, his 
nerves were ever strung, for battle. He was 
stout of heart, and strong of hand — he was 
calm, sagacious, unterrified. He was never 



118 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 

disconcerted — excitement seldom moved liim 
— his mind was always at its own command. 
His heart never lost its firmness — no suffering 
could overcome him — he was as stoical as the 
savage, whose greatest glory is to triumph 
amidst the most cruel tortures. His pride sus- 
tained him when his flesh was pierced with 
burning brands — when his muscles crisped 
and crackled in the flames. To the force of 
character, belonging to the- white, he added the 
savage virtues of the red man ; and many a 
captive has been rescued from the flames, 
through his stern contempt for torture, and his 
sneering triumph over his tormentors. The 
highest virtue of the savage was his fortitude ; 
and he respected and admired even a "pale 
face," who emulated his endurance. 

But fortitude is only passive courage — and 
the bravery of the pioneer was eminently ac- 
tive. His vengeance was as rapid as it was 
sometimes cruel. Ko odds against him could 
deter him, no time was ever wasted in delibera- 
tion. If a depredation was committed in the 
night, the dawn of morning found the sufferer 
on the trail of the marauder. He would follow 
it for days, and even weeks, with the sagacity 
of the blood-hound, with the patience of the 
savage : and, perhaps, in the very midst of the 



THE PIONEER. 119 

Indian country, in some moment of security, 
the blow descended, and the injury was fear- 
fully avenged ! The debt was never suft'ered 
to accumulate, when it could be discharged by 
prompt payment — and it was never forgotten ! 
If the account could not be balanced now, the 
obligation was treasured up for a time to come 
— and, when least expected, the debtor came, 
and paid with usury ! 

It has been said, perhaps truly, that a fierce, 
bloody spirit ruled the settlers in those early 
days. And it is unquestionable, that much of 
that contempt for the slow vengeance of a legal 
proceeding, which now distinguishes the peo- 
ple of the frontier west, originated then. It 
"was, doubtless, an unforgiving — eminently an 
unchristian — spirit: but vengeance, sure and 
swift, was the only thing which could impress 
the hostile savage. And, if example, in a mat- 
ter of this sort, could be availing, for their 
severity to the Indians, they had the highest ! 

The eastern colonists — good men and true 
■ — " willing to exterminate the savages," says 
Bancroft,* who is certainly not their enemy, 
offered a bounty for every Indian scalp — as 

* History of the United States, vol. iii., p. 336. Enacted in 
Massachusetts. 



120 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

we, in the west, do for the scalps of wolves ! 
*'To regular forces under pay, the grant was 
ten pounds — to volunteers, in actual service, 
twice that sum ; but if men would, of them- 
selves, without pay, make up parties and patrol 
the forests in search of Indians, as of old the 
woods were scoured for wild heasts^ the chase 
was invigorated by the promised " encourage- 
ment of ^(^y pounds per scalp !' " The '^fruit- 
less cruelties" of the Indian allies of the French 
in Canada, says the historian, gave birth to these 
humane and nicely-graduated enactments ! ISTor 
is our admiration of their Christian spirit in the 
least diminished, when we reflec.t that nothing 
is recorded in history of " bounties on scalps" 
or "encouragement" to murder, offered by 
Frontenac, or any other French-Canadian gov- 
ernor, as a revenge for the horrible massacre at 
Montreal, or the many " fruitless cruelties" of 
the bloody Iroquois !* 

The descendants of the men who gave these 
"bounties" and "encouragements," have, in our 
own day, caressed, and wept and lamented over 
the tawny murderer, Black-Hawk, and his 
" wrongs" and " misfortunes ;" but the theatre 

* A detailed and somewhat tedious account of these savage 
inroads, may be found in Warburton's Conquest of Canada^ 
published by Harpers. New-York. 1860. 



THE riONEER. 121 

of Indian warfare was then removed a little 
farther west; and the atrocities of Haverhill 
and Deerfield were perpetrated on the western 
prairies, and not amid the forests of the east ! 
Yet I do not mean, by referring to this passage 
of history — or to the rivers of wasted senti- 
ment poured out a few years ago — so much to 
condemn our forefathers, or to draw invidious 
comparisons between them and others, as to 
show, that the war of extermination, sometimes 
waged by western rangers, was not without ex- 
ample — that the cruelty and hatred of the j)io- 
neer to the barbarous Indian, might originate 
in exasperation, which even moved the puri- 
tans ; and that the lamentations, over the ficti- 
tious " wrongs" of a turbulent and bloody sav- 
age, might have run in a channel nearer home. 

Hatred of the Indian, among the pioneers, 
was hereditary ; there was scarcely a man on 
the frontier, who had not lost a father, a moth- 
er, or a brother, by the tomahawk ; and not a 
few of them had suffered in their own persons. 
The child, who learned the rudiments of his 
scanty education at his mother's knee, must 
decipher the strange characters by the strag- 
gling light which penetrated the crevices be- 
tween the logs ; for, while the father was ab- 

6 



122 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

sent, ill the field or on tlie war-patli, tlie mother 
was obliged to bar the doors and barricade tlie 
windows against the savages. Thus, if he did 
not literally imbibe it with his mother's milk, 
one of the first things the pioneer learned, was 
dread, and consequently hatred, of the Indian. 
That feeling grew with his growth, strength- 
ened with his strength — for a life upon the 
western border left but few days free from 
Bights of blood or mementoes of the savage. The 
pioneer might go to the field in the morning, 
unsuspecting ; and, at noon, returning, find his 
wife murdered and scalped, and the brains of 
his little ones dashed out against his own door- 
post! And if a deadly hatred of the Indian 
took possession of his heart, who shall blame 
him? It may be said, the pioneer was an in- 
truder, seeking to take forcible possession of the 
Indian's lands — and that it was natural that 
the Indian should resent the wrong after the 
manner of his race. Granted : and it was quite 
as natural that the pioneer should return the 
enmity, after the manner of his race ! 

But the pioneer was not an intruder. 

For all the purposes, fur which reason and the 
order of Providence authorize us to say, God 
made the earth, this continent was vacant — 
uninhabited. And — orrantino- that the sava2:o 



THE PIOXEER. 123 

was in possession — for this is liis only ground 
of title, as, indeed, it is the foundation of all 
primary title — there were at the period of the 
first landing of white men on the continent, be- 
tween Lake Superior and the Gulf of Mexico, 
east of the Mississippi, about one hundred and 
eighty thousand Indians.* That region now 
supports at least twenty millions of civilized 
people, and is capable of containing quite ten 
times that number, without crowding ! Now, 
if God made the earth for any purpose, it cer- 
tainly was not that it should be monopolized by 
a horde of nomad savages ! 

But an argument on this subject, would not 
be worth ink and paper ; and I am, moreover, 
aware, that this reasoning may be abused. 
Any attempt to construe the purposes of Deity 
must be liable to the same misapplication. 
And, besides, it is not my design to go so 
far back ; I seek not so much to excuse as to ac- 
count for — less to justify than to analyze — the 
characteristics of the class before me. I wish 
to establish that the pioneer hatred of the In- 
dian was not an unprovoked or groundless 
hatred, that the severity of his warfare was not 

*This is the estimate of Bnncroft — and, I think, at least, 
tliirty thousand too liberal. If the number were doubled, 
however, it would not weaken the position in the text 



124. WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

a mere gratuitous and bloody-minded cruelty. 
There are a thousand actions, of which we 
are hearing every day, that are indefensible in 
morals : and yet we are conscious while we 
condemn the actors, that, in like circumstances, 
we could not have acted differently. So is it 
with the fierce and violent reprisals, sometimes 
made by frontier rangers. Their best defence 
lies in the statement that they were men, and 
that their manhood prompted them to ven- 
geance. When they deemed themselves in- 
jured, they demanded reparation, in such sort 
as that demand could then be made — at the 
muzzle of a rifle or the point of a knife. They 
were equal to the times in which they lived. — 
Had they not been so, how many steamboats 
would now be floating on the Mississippi ? 

There was no romance in the composition of 
the pioneer' — ^ whatever there may have been 
in his environment. His life was altogether 
too serious a matter for poetry, and the only 
music he took pleasure in, was the sound of a 
violin, sending forth notes remarkable only for 
their liveliness. Even this, he could enjoy but 
at rare periods, when his cares were forcibly 
dismissed. He was, in truth, a very matter-of- 
fact sort of person. It was principally with 



THE riONEEK. 125 

facts that he had to deal — and most of them 
were very "stubborn facts." Lideed, it^ay 
be doubted — notwithstanding much good poet- 
ry has been written (in cities chiefly), on soli- 
tude and the wilderness — whether a life in the 
woods is, after all, very suggestive of poetical 
thoughts. The perils of the frontier must bor- 
row most of their " enchantment" from the 
" distance ;" and its sufferings and hardships 
are certainly more likely to evoke pleasant 
fancies to him who sits beside a good coal fire, 
than to one whose lot it is to bear them. Even 
the (so-called) " varied imagery" of the Indian's 
eloquence — about which so much nonsense 
has been written — is, in a far greater measure, 
the result of the poverty and crude materialism 
of his language, than of any poetical bias, tem- 
perament, or tone of thought. An Indian, as 
we have said before, has no humor — he never 
understands a jest — his wife is a beast of bur- 
then — heaven is a Imnting-groimd — his lan- 
guage has no words to express abstract quali- 
ties, virtues, or sentiments. And yet he lives 
in the wilderness all the days of his life ! The 
only trait lie has, in common with the poetical 
character, is his laziness. 

But the pioneer was not indolent, in any 
sense. He had no dreaminess — meditation 



126 AVESTEKN CHAEACTEKS. 

was no part of liis mental liabit — a poetical 
fancy would, in him, have been an indication 
of insanity. If he reclined at the foot of a tree, 
on a still summer day, it was to sleep : if he 
gazed out over the waving prairie, it was to 
search for the column of smoke w^hich told of 
his enemy's approach : if he turned his eyes 
toward the blue heaven, it was to prognosticate 
to-morrow's storm or sunshine : if he bent his 
gaze upon the green earth, it w^as to look for 
" Indian sign" or buffalo trail. His wife was only 
a help-mate — he never thought of making a di- 
vinity of her — she cooked his dinner, made 
and washed his clothes, bore his children, and 
took care of his household. His children were 
never "little cherubs," — "angels sent from 
heaven" — but generally " tow-headed" and 
very earthly responsibilities. He looked for- 
ward anxiously, to the day when the boys 
should be able to assist him in the field, or fight 
the Indian, and the girls to help their mother 
make and mend. When one of the latter took 
it into her head to be married — as they usually 
did quite early in life ; for beaux were plenty 
and belles were " scarce" — he only made one 
condition, that the man of her choice should be 
brave and healthy. He never made a "pa- 
rade" about anything — marriage, least of all. 



THE rioxKKK. 127 

He usually gave tlie Lriile — not the " bliisli- 
ing" bride — a bed, a lean horse, and some 
good advice: and, having thus discharged his 
duty in the premises, returned to his work, and 
the business was done. 

The marriage ceremony, in those days, was a 
very unceremonious affair. The parade and 
drill which now attend it, would then have 
been as ridiculous as a Chinese dance; and the 
finery and ornament, at present understood to 
be indispensable on such occasions, then bore 
no sway in fashion. Bridrd wreaths and dresses 
were not known ; and. white kid gloves and 
satin slippers never heard of. Orange blossoms 
— natural and artificial — were as pretty then 
as now; but the people were more occupied 
with substance, than with emblem. 

The ancients decked their victims for the 
sacrifice with gaudy colors, flags, and stream- 
ers ; the moderns do the same, and the offer- 
ings are sometimes made to quite as barbarous 
deities. 

But the bride of the pioneer was clothed in 
linsey-wolse}^, with hose of woollen yarn ; and 
moccasins of deer-skin — or as an extra piece 
of finery, high-quartered shoes of calf-skin — pre- 



128 WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 

ceded satin slippers. The bridegroom came in 
copperas-colored jeans — domestic manufacture 
— as a holiday suit; or, perhaps, a hunting- 
shirt of buckskin, all fringed around the skirt 
and cape, and a " coon-skin" cap, with mocca- 
sins. Instead of a dainty walking-stick, with 
an opera-dancers leg, in ivory, for head, he al- 
ways brought his rifle, with a solid maple stock; 
and never, during the whole ceremony, did he 
divest himself of powder-horn and bullet-pouch. 
Protestant ministers of the gospel were few 
in those days ; and the words of form w^ere 
usually spoken by a Jesuit missionary. Or, if 
the Pioneer had objections to Catholicism — as 
many had — his place was supplied by some 
justice of the peace, of doubtful powers and 
mythical appointment. If neither of these 
could be procured, the father of the bride, him- 
self, sometimes assumed the functions, ^r^ liao 
vice^ oic pro tempore^ of minister or justice. It 
was always understood, however, that such 
left-handed marriages were to be conlBrmed by 
the first minister who wandered to the frontier : 
and, even when the opportunity did not ofi*er 
for many months, no scandal ever arose — the 
marriage vow was never broken. The pioneers 
were simple people — the refinements of high 
cultivation had not yet penetrated the forests 



THE PIONEER. 129 

or crossed the prairies — and good faith and 
virtue were as common as courage and sagacity. 

When the brief, but all-sufficient ceremony 
was over, the bridegroom resumed his rifle, 
helped the bride into the saddle — or more fre- 
quently to the pillion behind him — and they 
calmly rode away together. 

On some pleasant spot — surrounded by a 
shady grove, or point of timber— a new log-cabin 
has been built : its rough logs notched across 
each other at the corners, a roof of oaken clap- 
boards, held firmly down by long poles along 
each course, its floor of heavy "puncheons,* its 
broad, cheerful fireplace, large as a modern 
bed-room — all are in the highest style of fron- 
tier architecture. Within — excepting some 
anomalies, such as putting the skillet and tea- 
kettle in the little cupboard, along with the 
blue-edged plates and yellow-figured tea-cups 
— for the whole has been arranged by the 
hands of the bridegroom himself — everything 
is neatly and properly disposed. The oaken 
bedstead, with low square posts, stands in one 
corner, and the bed is covered by a pure white 
counterpane, with fringe — an heirloom in the 
family of the bride. At the foot of this is seen 



130 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

a large, heavy chest — like a camp-chest — to 
serve for bureau, safe, and dressing-case. 

In the middle of the floor — directly above a 
trap-door which leads to a "potato-hole" be- 
neath — stands a ponderous walnut table, and 
on it sits a nest of wooden trays ; while, flank- 
ing these, on one side, is a nicely-folded table- 
cloth, and, on the other, a wooden-handled 
butcher-knife and a well-worn Bible. Around 
the room are ranged a few " split-bottomed" 
chairs, exclusively for use, not ornament. In 
the chimney-corners, or under the table, are 
several three-legged stools, made for the chil- 
dren, who — as the bridegroom laughingly in- 
sinflates while he points to the uncouth speci- 
mens of his handiwork — "will be coming in 
due time." The wife laughs in her turn — re- 
plies, "no doubt". — and, taking one of the grace- 
ful tripods in her hand, carries it forth to sit upon 
while she milks the cow — for she understands 
what she is expected to do, and d<M,'S it without 
delay. In one corner — near tl ■: fireplace — 
the aforesaid cupboard is erected — being a 
few oaken shelves neatly pinned to the logs 
with hickory forks — and in this are arranged 
the plates and cups; — not as the honest pride 
of the housewife would arrange them, to dis- 
play them to the best advantaere — but piled 



THE nONEEK. 131 

away, one within another, without reference to 
show. As yet there is no sign of female taste 
or presence. 

But now the house receives its mistress. The 
" liappy couple" ride up to the low rail-fence 
in front — the bride springs off without assist- 
ance, affectation, or delay. The husband leads 
away the horse or horses, and the wife enters 
^he dominion, where, thenceforward, she is 
queen. There is no coyness, no blushing, no 
pretence of fright or nervousness — if you wnll, 
no romance — for which the husband has rea- 
son to be thankful! The wife knows what her 
duties are and resolutely goes about performing 
them. She never dreamed, nor twaddled, about 
" love in a cottage," or " the sweet communion 
of congenial souls" (who never eat anything) : 
and she is, therefore, not disappointed on dis- 
covering that life is actually a serious thing. 
She never whines about " making her husband 
happy" — but sets firmly and. sensibly about 
making him comfortable. She cooks his din- 
ner, nurses his children, shares his hardships, 
and encourages his industry. She never com- 
plains of having too much work to do, slie does 
not desert her home to make endless visits — 
she borrows no misfortimes, has no imaginary 



132 AVESTEEN CHAKACTEKS. 



ailings. Milliners and mantua-makers she ig- 
nQi'es — "shopping" she never heard of — scan- 
dal she never invents or listens to. She never 
wishes for fine carriages, professes no inability 
to walk five hundred yards, and does not think 
it a " vulgar accomplishment," to know how to 
make butter. She has no groundless anxieties, 
she is not nervous about her children taking 
cold : a doctor is a visionary potentate to her 
— a drug-shop is a depot of abominations. She 
never forgets whose. wife she is, — there is no 
" sweet confidante" without whom she " can not 
live" — she never writes endless letters about 
nothing. She is, in short, a faithful, honest 
wife: and, "in due time," the husband must 
make raore " three-legged stools" — for the " tow- 
heads" have now covered them all ! 

Such is the wife and mother of the pioneer, 
and, with such influences about him, how could 
he be otherwise than honest, straightforward, 
and manly ? 

But, though a life in the woods was an enemy 
to every sort of sentimentalism — though a more 
unromantic being than the pioneer can hardly 
be imagined — yet his character unquestionably 
took its hue, from the primitive scenes and 



THE PIONEEK. 133 

events of liis solitary existence. He was, in 
many things, as simple as a child : as credulous, 
as unsophisticated. Yet the utmost cunning of 
the wily savage — all the strategy of Indian 
warfare — was not sufficient to deceive or over- 
reach him ! Though one might have expected 
that his life of ceaseless watchfulness would 
make him skeptical and suspicious, his confi- 
dence was given heartily, without reservation, 
and often most imprudently. If he gave his 
trust at all, you might ply him, by the hour, 
with the most improbable and outrageous fic- 
tions, without fear of contradiction or of un- 
belief. He never questioned the superior 
knowledge or pretensions of any one who 
claimed acquaintance with subjects of which 
he was ignorant. 

The character of his intellect, like that of the 
Indian, was thoroughly synthetical : he had 
nothing of the faculty which enables us to de- 
tect falsehood, even in matters of which we 
know nothing by comparison and analogy. He 
never analyzed any story told him, he took it 
as a unit; and, imless it violated some known 
principle of his experience, or conflicted with 
some fact of his own observation, never doubted 
its truth. At this moment, there are men in 
every western settlement who have only vague, 



134 -SVESTEKN LiiAKACTEES. 

' -nde notions of what a city is — wlio would 
feel nervous if they stepped upon the deck of a 
steamboat — and are utterly at a loss to conjec- 
ture the nature of a railroad. Upon either of 
■ lese mystical subjects they will swallow, with- 
out straining, tlie most absurd and impossible 
fictions. And this is not because of their igno- 
rance alone, for many of them are, for their 
sphere in life, educated, intelligent, and, what is 
better, sensible men. 'Nov is it by any means 
a national trait : for a genuine Yankee will 
scarcely believe the truth ; and, tliough he may 
sometimes trust in very wild things, his frith is 
usually an active " craze," and not mere passive 
credulity. The pioneer, then, has not derived it 
from his eastern fathers : it is the growth of the 
woods and pi-airies — an embellishment to a 
charn • r^ ^j^'hich might otherwise appear naked 
and -i-vero. 

Another characteristic, traceable to the same 
source, the stern reality of his life, is the pioneer's 
gravity. 

The agricultural population of this country 
are, at the best, not a cheerful race. Tliougl; 
they sometimes join in festivities, it is br.r, 
seldom ; and the wildness of their dissipation is 
too often in proportion to its infrequeticy. There 



THE ri02sF.Eli. 135 

is none of the serene contentment — none of 
that smiling enjoyment — which, according lo 
travellers like Howitt, distinguishes tho lille" 
of tlie ground in other lands. Sedateness is p 
national characteristic, but the gravity oi ii.. 
pioneer is quite another thing ; it includes 
pride and personal dignity, and indicates a 
stern, unyielding temper. There is, however, 
nothing morose in it : it is its af^pect alone, 
which forbids approach ; and that only makes 
more conspicuous the heartiness of your recep- 
tion, when once the shell is broken. Acquainted 
with the character, you do not expect him to 
smile much ; but now and then he laughs : and 
that laugh is round, free, and hearty. You 
know at once that he enjoys it, you are con- 
vinced that he is a firm friend and " a good 
hater." 

It is not surprising, with a character such as 
I have described, that the pioneer is not grega- 
rious, that he is, indeed, rather solitary. Ac- 
cordingly, we never find a genuine specimen of 
the class, among the cmigrantF, who come in 
shoals and fiocks, and pitch their < «^nts in " colo- 
nies ;" who lay out, ^'^wns and cilies, projected 
upon paper, anc cn'i them N- Boston, New 
Albany, or A't'ot^ T "-tf'ord, b- ' 'o one log is 



136 WESTEEN CHARACTEES. 

placed upon another ; nor are there many of the 
unadulterated stock among that other class, who 
come from regions further south, and christen 
their towns, classically, Carthage, Rome, or 
Athens : or, patriotically, in commemoration of 
some Yirginian worthy, some Maryland sharp- 
shooter, or " Jersey blue." 

The real pioneer never emigrates gregarious- 
ly ; he does not wish to be within " halloo" of 
his nearest neighbor ; he is no city-builder; and, 
if he does project a town, he christens it by 
some such name as Boonville or Clarksville, in 
memory of a noted pioneer : or Jacksonville or 
Waynesville, to commemorate some " old hero" 
who was celebrated for good fighting.* And 
the reason why the outlandish and outre so much 
predominate in the names of western towns 
and cities, must be sought in the fact referred 

* On the subject of naming towns, mnch might have been 
said in the preceding article in favor of French taste, and espe- 
cially that just and unpretending taste, which led them almost 
alway to retain the Indian names. While the American has 
pretentiously imported from the Old World such names as 
Venice, Carthage, Rome, Athens, and even London and Paris, 
or has transferred from the eastern states, Boston, Philadelphia, 
Baltimore, and New York, the Frenchman, with a better judg- 
ment, has retained such Indian names as Chicago, Peoria, Kas- 
kaskia, Cahokia, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missouri, Wabash, and Mis- 
sieaippi. 



THE PIONEER. 137 

to above, that the western man is not essentially 
a town-projector, and that, consequently, com- 
paratively few of the towns were " laid out" by 
the legitimate pioneer. We shall have more to 
say of town-building under another head ; and, 
in the meantime, having said that the pioneer 
is not gregarious, let us look at the manner of 
his emigration. 

Many a time, in the western highwaj^s, have 
I met with the sturdy " mover," as he is called, 
in the places where people are stationary — ■ 
a family, sometimes by no means small, wan- 
dering toward the setting sun, in search of 
pleasant places on the lands of " Uncle Sam." 
Many a time, in the forest or on the prairie — 
generally upon some point of timber Avhich puts 
a mile or two within the plain — have I passed 
the " clearing," or " pre-emption," where, with 
nervous arm and sturdy heart, the " squatter"* 
cleaves out, and renders habitable, a home for 
himself and a heritage for his children. 

Upon the road, you first meet the pioneer him- 

* This word is a pregnant memento of the manner in which 
the vain words of flippant orators fall, innocuous, to the ground, 
when they attempt to stigmatize, with contemptuous terms, 
the truly noble. "Squatter" is now, in the west, only another 
name for "Pioneer," and that word describes all that is ad- 
mirable in courage, truth, and manhood 1 



lo8 WESTEKN CHAKACTKRS. 

polf, for he almost always walks a few hundred 
yards ahead. He is nsnally above the inedinin 
]i eight, and rather spare. He stoops a little, 
too ; for he has done a deal of hard wurk, and 
expects to do more ; but you see at once, that 
unless his lungs are weak, his strength is by no 
means broken, and you are quite sure that many 
a stately tree is destined to be humbled by his 
sinewy arm. He is attired in frontier fashion : 
he wears a loose coat, called a hunting-shirt, of 
jeans or linsey, and its color is that indescriba- 
ble hue compounded of copperas and madder ; 
pantaloons, exceedingly loose, and not very ac- 
curately cut in any part, of like color and 
material, defend his lower limbs. His feet are 
cased in low, fox-colored shoes, for of boots, he 
is, yet, quite innocent. Around his throat and 
wrists, even in midsummer, you see the collar 
and wristbands of a heavy, deep-red, flannel- 
si lirt. Examine him very closely, and you will 
probably find no other garment on his person. 

His hair is dark, and not very evenly trim- 
med — for his wife or daughter has performed 
the tonsure with a pair of rusty shears ; and the 
longer locks seem changed in hue, as if his 
dingy wool hat did not sufficiently protect them 
against the wind and rain. Over his shoulder 
he carries a heavy rifle, heavier than a " Har- 



THE PIONEER. 139 

per's ferry musket," running about " fifty to the 
pourd.'' Around liis neck are swung the 
powder-liorn nnd bullet-pouch, the former pro- 
tCv-ted by a square of deer-skin, and the latter 
ornanienttd witli a squirrel's tail. 

You take note of all these things, and then 
recur to liis melaacholy -looking face, with its 
mild blue eyes and sharpened features. You 
think he looks thin, and conjecture that his chest 
may be weak, or his lungs affected, by the stoop 
in his shoulders ; but when he lifts his eyes, and 
asks the way to Thompson's ferry, or how far it 
is to water, you are satisfied : for the glance of 
his eye is calm and firm, and the tone of his 
A^oice is round and healthy. You answer his 
question, he nods quietly by way of thanks, and 
marches on ; and, though you draw your rein, 
and seem inclined to further converse, he takes 
no notice, and pursues his way. 

A few minutes afterward, you meet the family. 
A small, light wagon, easily dragged tli rough 
sloughs and heavy roads, is covered with a white 
cotton cloth, and drawn, by either two yokes of 
oxen, or a pair of lean horses. A " patch-work" 
quilt is sometimes stretched across the flimsy 
covering, as a guard against the sun and rain. 
Within this vehicle are stowed all the emigrant's 
household goods, and still, it is not overloaded. 



140 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

There is usually a, large chest, containing the 
wardrobe of the family, witli such small articles 
as are liable to loss, and the little store of money. 
This is always in silver, for the pioneer is no 
judge of gold, and, on the frontier, paper has 
but little exchangeable value. There are then 
two light bedsteads — one "a trundle-bed" — a 
few plain chairs, most of them tied on behind 
and at the sides ; three or four stools, domestic 
manufacture ; a set of tent-poles and a few pots 
and pans. On these are piled the "beds and 
bedding," tied in large bundles, and stowed in 
such manner as to make convenient room for the 
children who are too young to walk. In the 
front end of the wagon, sits the mother of the 
family : and, peering over her head and shoul- 
ders, leaning out at lier side, or gazing under 
the edge of the cotton-covering, are numerous 
flaxen heads, which you find it difficult to count 
while you ride past. 

There are altogether too many of them, you 
think, for a man no older than the one you met, 
a while ago ; and yon, j^erhaps, conjecture that 
the youthful-looking woman has adopted some 
of her dead sister's children, or, perchance, some 
of her brothers and sisters themselves. But 
you are mistaken, they are all her offspring, and 



THE PIONEER. 141 

the father of every one of them is the stoop- 
shouldered man you saw ahead. If you look 
closely, you will observe that the mother, who 
is driving, holds the reins with one* hand, while, 
on the other arm, she supports an infant not 
more than six months old. It was for the advent 
of this little stranger, that they delayed their 
emigration : and they set out while it was very 
young, for fear of the approach of its successor. 
If they waited for their youngest child to attain 
a year of age, they would never " move," 
until they would be too old to make another 
"clearinoj." 

You pass on — perhaps ejaculating thanks 
that your lot has been differently cast, and 
thinking you have seen the last of them. 
But a few hundred yards further, and yon hear 
the tinkling of a bell ; two or three lean cows 
— with calves about the age of the baby — 
[iome straggling by. You look for the driver, 
and see a tall girl with a very young face — 
the eldest of the family, though not exceeding 
twelve or thirteen years in age. You feel quite 
3ure, that, besides her sun-bonnet and well- 
worn shoes, she wears but one article of ap- 
parel — and that a loose dress of linsey, rather 
narrow in the skirt, of a dirty brown color, with 
a tinge of red. It hangs straight down about 



14:2 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

lu'i- limbs, as if it were wot, and with every 
step — for she walks stoutly — it Haps and flies 
about her ankles, as if shotted in the lower liein. 
She presents, altog-ether, rather a slatternly 
liiTinv, and her face is freckled and sunburnt. 

J hit you must not judge her too rashly ; for 
her eye is keen and expressive, and her mouth 
is (piite pretty — especially when she smiles. 
A few years hence — if you have the entree — 
you nniy meet her in the best and highest cir- 
cles of the country. Perhaps, wdiile you are 
daiuiiig atlendance U]>on some new administra- 
tion, asking for a " place," and asking, prob- 
al>ly, in vain, she may come to AVashington, a 
beautiful and accomplished woman ■ — the wife 
of some mond)er of Congress, whose constitu- 
ency is numbered by the hundred thousand ! 

You may pass on, now, and forget her; but, 
if you stop to talk live minutes, she will not 
forget ijoii — at least, if you say anything stri- 
. king or sensible. iVnd when you meet her again, 
perhaps in a gilded saloon, among the brightest 
and highest in the land — if you seek an intro- 
duction, as you probably will — she will remind 
you of the meeting, and to your astonishment, 
will lau:;hingly describe the scene, to some of 
her obsequious friends who stand around. And 
then she will peihaps introduce you, as an old 



TJl]': l^lONKKIl. 143 

friciH], to one of* tliose flax-lialred boyH, wlio 
peeped out of the wagon over Iiis inotlier's 
shoulder, as you passed them in tlie wihJerneBs: 
and you recognise one of* the rneinhers from 
California, or from Oregon, whose influence in 
tlie house, though he is as yet a very young man, 
is already quite conslderalde. If you are suc- 
cessful in your application for a "place," it 
may be tliat the casual meeting in the forest or 
on the prairie was the seed which, germinating 
through long years of obscurity, finally sprung 
up tkuH^ and bore a ci«op of high official honors! 

Tlie next time you meet a family of emigrants 
on the frontier, you will probably observe them 
a little more closely. 

Not a few of those who bear a prominent 
part in the government of our country — more 
than one of the first men of the nation — men 
whose names are now heard in connection with 
the highest office of the people — twenty years 
ago, occupied a place as humble in the scale of 
influence, as that flaxen-haired son of the stoop- 
shouldered emigrant. Such are the elements 
of our civilization — such the spirit of our in- 
stitutions ! 



144: WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 

We have hitherto been speaking only of the 
American pioneer, and we have devoted more 
space to him, than we shall give to his contem- 
poraries, because he has exerted more influence, 
both in the settlement of the country, and in 
the formation of sectional character and social 
peculiarities, than all the rest combined. 

The French emigrant was quite a different 
being. Even at this day/ there are no two 
classes — not the eastern and western, or the 
northern and southern — between whom the 
distinction is more marked, than it has always 
been between the Saxon and the Frank. The 
advent of the latter was much earlier than that 
of the former; and to him, therefore, must be 
ascribed the credit of the first settlement of the 
country. But, for all purposes of lasting im- 
pression, he must yield to his successor. It 
was, in fact, the American who penetrated and 
cleared the forest — who subdued and drove out 
the Indian — who, in a word, reclaimed the 
country. 

In nothing was the distinction between the 
two races broader, than in the feelings with 
which they approached the savage. "We have 
seen that the hatred, borne by the American 
toward his red enemy, was to be traced to a 



THE PIONEER. 145 

Ions: series of mutual hostilities and wrono-s. 
But the Frenchman had no such injuries to 
avenge, no hereditary feud to prosecute. The 
first of his nation who had entered the country 
were non-combatants — they came to convert 
the savage, not to conquer him, or deprive him 
of his lands. Even as early as sixteen hundred 
and eight, the Jesuits had established friendly 
relations with the Indians of Canada — and be- 
fore the stern crew of the May Flower had land- 
ed on Plymouth Rock, they had preached the 
gospel on the shores of Lake Huron. Their 
piety and wisdom had acquired an influence 
over the untutored Indian, long before the com- 
mencement of the hostilities, wdiich afterward 
cost so much blood and suffering. They had, 
thus, smoothed the way for their countrymen, 
and opened a safe path through the wilderness, 
to the shore of the great western waters. And 
the people who followed and accompanied them, 
were peculiarly adapted to improve the advan- 
tages thus given them. 

They were a gentle, peaceful, unambitious 
people. They came as the friend, not the he- 
reditary enemy, of the savage. They tendered 
the calumet — a symbol well understood by 
every Indian — and were received as allies and 
brethren. They had no national prejudices to 
7 



146 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

overcome : the copper color of the Indian was 
not an insuperable objection to intermarriage, 
and children of the mixed blood were not, for 
that reason, objects of scorn. An Indian 
maiden was as mnch a woman to a Frenchman, 
as if she had been a Uoiide / and, if her form 
was graceful and her features comely, he would 
woo her with as much ardor as if she had been 
one of his own race. 

Nor was this jieculiarity attributable only to 
the native gallantry of the French character, 
as it has sometimes been asserted : the total 
want of prejudice, which grows up in contem- 
plating an inferior race, held in limited subjec- 
tion, and a certain easiness of temper and tone 
of thought, had far more influence. 

The Frenchman has quite enough vanity, 
but very little pride. Whatever, therefore, is 
sanctioned by those who surrounded him, is, in 
his eyes, no degradation. He married the In- 
dian woman — first, because there were but few 
females among the emigrants, and he could not 
live without "the sex;" and, second, because 
there was nothing in his prejudices, or in pub- 
lic sentiment, to deter him. The descendants 
of these marriages — except where, as in some 
cases, they are upheld by the possession of 
great wealth — have no consideration, and are 



THE PIONEER. 147 

seldom seen in the society of tlie whites. But 
this is only because French manners and feel- 
ings have long since faded out of our social or- 
ganization. The Saxon, with his unconquer- 
able prejudices of race, with his pride and jeal- 
ousy, lias taken possession of the country ; and, 
as he rules its political destinies, in most places, 
likewise, gives tones to its manners. Had 
Frenchmen continued to possess the land — had 
French dominion not given place to English — 
mixture of blood would have had but little in- 
fluence on one's position ; and there would now 
have been, in St. Louis or Chicago, as many 
shades of color in a social assembly, as may be 
seen at a ball in Mexico. 

The French are a more cheerful people, than 
the Americans. Social intercourse — the in- 
terchange of hospitalities — the enjoyment of 
amusements in crowds — are far more import- 
ant to them than to any other race. Solitude 
and misery are — or ought to be — synonj'ms 
in French; and enjoyment is like glory — it 
must have \vitnesses, or it will lose its attrac- 
tion. Accordingly, we find the French emi- 
grant seeking companionship, even in the tiials 
and enterprises of the wilderness. The Ameri- 
can, after the manner of his race, sought places 



148 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

where he could possess, for himself, enough for 
his wants, and be " monarch of all he surveyed." 
But the Frenchman had no such pride. He 
resorted to a town, where the amusements of 
dancing, fetes^ and social converse, were to be 
found — where the narrow streets were scarcely 
more than a division fence, " across which the 
women could carry on their voluble conversa- 
tions, without leaving their homes."* This 
must have been a great advantage, and prob- 
ably contributed, in no slight degree, to the 
singular peace of their villages — since the 
proximity afforded no temptation to going 
abroad, and the distance was yet too great to 
allow such whisperings and scandal, as usually 
break up the harmony of small circles. Whether 
the fact is to be attributed to this, or to some 
other cause, certain it is that these little com- 
munities were eminently peaceful. From the 
first settlement of Kaskaskia, for example, down 
to the transfer of the western country to the 
British — almost a century — I find no record, 
even in the voluminous epistolary chronicles, 
of any personal rencontre, or serious quarrel, 
among the inhabitants. The same praise can 
not be given to any American town ever yet 
built. 

* Perkins's Western Annals. 



TIIE PIONEER. 149 

A species of comminiism seems to be a por- 
tion of the French character; for we discover, 
that, even at that early day, ^;><:7y.s'(2?i5, or hcibi- 
tans^ collected together in villages, had their 
common fields^ where the separate portion of 
each family was still a, part of the common 
stock — and their tract of pasture-land, where 
there w^as no division, or separate property. 
One enclosure covered all the fields of the com- 
munity, and all submitted to regulations made 
b}" the free voice of the people. 

If one was sick, or employed in the service 
of the colony, or absent on business of his own 
at planting or harvest time, his portion was not 
therefore neglected : his ground was planted, 
or his crop was gathered, by the associated 
labor of his neighbors, as thoroughly and care- 
fully as if he had been at home. His family 
liad nothing to fear; because in the social code 
of the simple villagers, each was as much bound 
to maintain the children of his friend as his 
own. This state of things might have its in- 
conveniences and vices ^ — of which, perhaps, 
the worst was its tendency to merge the family 
into the community, and thus — by obliterating 
the lines of individuality and personal inde- 
pendence — benumbing enterprise and check- 
ing improvements : but it was certainly produc- 



150 TVIESTEKN CnARACTEES. 

tive of some good results, also. It tended to 
make j^eople careful each of the other's rights, 
kind to the afflicted, and brotherly in their 
social intercourse. The attractive simplicity 
of manners observable, even at this day, in 
some of the old French villages, is traceable to 
this peculiar form of their early organization. 

It would be well if that primitive simplicity 
of life and manners, could be combined w^itli 
rapid, or even moderate improvement. But, 
in the present state of the world, this can 
scarcely be ; and, accordingly, we find the 
Frenchman of the passing year, diifering but 
little from his ancestor of sixteen hundi ed and 
fifty — still living in the old patriarchal style, 
still cultivating his share of the common field, 
and still using the antiquated processes of the 
seventeenth century. 

But, though not so active as their neighbors, 
the Americans, they were ever mucli happier. 
They had no ambition beyond enough for the 
passing hour: with that they were perfectly con- 
tented. They were very patient of the depriva- 
tion, when they had it not ; and seasons of 
scarcity saw no cessation of music and dancing, 
no abridgment of the jest a'nd song. If the 
earth yielded enough in one year to sustain them 



TTTE riONEETJ. 151 

till the next, the amount of labor expended for 
that object was never increased — superfluity 
they cared notliing for: and commerce, save 
sucli limited trade as was necessary to provide 
their few luxuries, was be^^ond both their capa- 
city and desires. The prolific soil was suffered 
to retain its juices; it was reserved for another 
l^eople to discover and improve its infinite pro- 
ductiveness. 

They were indolent, careless, and improvident. 
Great enterprises were above or below them. 
Political interests, and the questions concerning 
national dominion, were too exciting to charm 
their gentle natures. Their intelligence was, of 
course, not of the highest order : but they had 
no use for learning — literature was out of place 
in the wilderness — the pursuit of letters could 
liave found no sympathy, and for solitary enjoy- 
ment, the Frenchman cultivates nothing. Life 
was almost altogether sensuous: and, though 
their morals w^ere in keeping with their sim- 
plicity, existence to them was chiefly a physical 
matter. The fertility of the soil, producing all 
the necessaries of life with a small amount of 
labor, and the amenity of the climate, rendering 
defences against winter but too easy, encouraged 
their indolence, and soothed their scanty energy. 



152 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 

"They made no attempt," said one* who 
knew them well, " to acquire land from the 
Indians, to organize a social system, to intro- 
duce municipal regulations, or to establish mili- 
tary defences ; but cheerfully obeyed the priests 
and the king's officers, and enjoyed the present 
w^ithout troubling their heads about the future. 
They seem to have been even careless as to the 
acquisition of property, and its transmission to 
their heirs. Finding themselves in a fruitful 
country, abounding in game — where the neces- 
saries of life could be procured with little labor 
— where no restraints were imposed by govern- 
ment, and neither tribute nor j^ersonal service 
was exacted, they were content to live in un- 
ambitious peace and comfortable poverty. They 
took possession of so much of the vacant land 
around them, as they were disposed to till, and 
no more. Their agriculture was rude : and even 
to this day, some of the implements of hus- 
bandry and modes of cultivation, brought from 
France a century ago, remain unchanged by the 
march of mind or the hand of innovation. 
Their houses were comfortable, and they reared 
fruits and flowers, evincing, in this respect, an 
attention to comfort and luxury, which has not 

* "Sketches of the West," by Judge Hall, for many years a 
resident of Illinois. 



THE PIONEER. 153 

been practised by tlie English and American 
first settlers. But in the accnmnlation of prop- 
erty, and in all tlie essentials of industry, they 
were indolent and improvident, rearing only the 
bare necessaries of life, and living from genera- 
tion to generation without change or in^p: ove- 
ment." 

"Tliey reared fruits and flowers," he says; 
and this simple fact denotes a marked distinction 
between them and the Americans, not only in 
regard to the things themselves, as would seem 
to be the view of the author quoted, but in 
mental constitution, modes of thought, and 
motives to action. Their tastes were elegant, 
ornate, and refined. They found pleasure in 
pursuits which the American deems trivial, 
frivolous, and unworthy of exertion. 

If any trees sheltered the house of the Ameri- 
can, they were those planted by the winds ; if 
there were any flowers at his door, they were 
only those with which prodigal nature has car- 
peted the prairies ; and you may see now in the 
west, many a cabin which has stood for thirty 
years, w^ith not a tree, of shade or fruit, within 
a mile of its door ! Everything is as bare and 
as cheerless about the door-j^ard, as it was the 
first winter of its enclosure. But, stretching 
away from it, in every direction, sometimes for 



154 V.'ESTERN CHARACTERS. 

miles, you will see extensive and prodnctivO 
fields of grain, in the highest state of cultivation. 
It is not personal comfort, or an elegant resi- 
dence, for which the American cares, but the 
enduring and solid results of unwearied labor. 

A Frenchman's residence is surrounded by 
flower-beds and orchards ; his windows are 
covered by creeping-vines and trellis-work ; 
flower-pots and bird-cages occupy the sills and 
surround the corridors ; everything presents the 
aspect of elegant taste, comfort, and indolence. 
The extent of his fields, the amount of his prod- 
uce, the intelligence and industry of his culti- 
vation, bear an immense disproportion to those 
of his le^s ornamental, though more energetic, 
neighbor. 

The distinction between the two races is as 
clear in their personal appearance and bearing, 
as in the aspect of their plantations. The 
Frenchman is generally a spruce, dapper little 
gentleman, brisk, obsequious, and insinuating 
in manner, and usually betraying minute atten- 
tion to externals. The American is always plain 
in drci^s — evincing no more taste in costume 
than in horticulture — steady, calm, and never 
lively in manner: blunt, straightforward, and 
independent in discourse. The one is amiable 



THE PIONEER. 155 

and submissive, the otlier choleric and rebel- 
lious. The Frenchman alwa3^s recognises and 
bows before superior rank : the American ac- 
knowledges no superior, and bows to no man 
save in courtes3\ The former is docile and 
easily governed : the latter is intractable, be- 
yond control. The Frencbman accommodates 
himself to circumstances : the American forces 
circumstances to yield to him. 

The consequence has been, that while the 
American has stamped his character upon the 
whole country, there are not ten places in the 
valley of the Mississippi, where you would in- 
fer, from anything you see, that a Frenchman 
had ever placed his foot upon the soil. The few 
localities in which the French character yet 
lingers, are fast losing the distinction ; and a 
score or two of years will witness a total dis- 
appearance of the gentle people and their primi- 
tive abodes. Even now — excepting in a few 
parishes in Louisiana — tlie relics of the race 
bear a faded, antiquated look : as if they be- 
longed to a past century, as, indeed, they do, 
and only lingered now, to witness, for a brief 
space, the glaring innovations of the nineteenth, 
and then, lamenting tlie follies of modern civi- 
lization, to take their departure for ever I 

Let tliem depart in peace! For they were a 



156 WESTERN CHAliACTERS. 

gentle and pacific race, and in their day did 
many kindly things ! 

"The goodness of the heart is shown in deeds 
Of peacefulness and kindness." 

Their best monnment is an affectionate recol- 
lection of their simplicity : their highest wish 



"To sleep in humble life, 

Beneath the storm ambition blows." 




r II K K A .\ i; K K 



IV. 

THE KANGEE. 

"When purposed vengeance I forego, 

Tenn me a wretch, nor deem me foe ; 

And when an insult I forgive, 

Then brand me as a slave, and live." 

Scott. 

In elaborating the character of the pioneer, 
we have unavoidably anticipated, in some meas- 
ure, that of the Ranger — for the latter was, in 
fact, only one of the capacities in which the 
former sometimes acted. But — since, in the 
preceding article, we have have endeavored to 
confine the inquiry, so as to use the term Pio- 
neer as almost synonymous with Immigrant — 
we have, of course, ignored, to some extent, 
the subordinate characters, in which he fre- 
quently figured. "We therefore propose, now, 
briefly to review one or two of them in their 
natural succession. 

The progress of our country may be traced 
and measured, by the representative characters 



158 -SVESTEKN CllAlJACTEES. 

wliicli marked eacli period. The missionary- 
priest came first, wlien the land was an un- 
broken wiklerness. The military adventurer, 
seeking to establish new empires, and acquire 
great fortunes, entered by the path thus opened. 
Next came the hunter, roaming tlie woods in 
search of wild beasts upon which he preyed. 
Making himself familiar with the "pathless for- 
est and tlie rolling prairie, he qualified himself 
to guide, even while he fled from, the stream 
of immigration. At last came the pioneer, to 
drive away the savage, to clear out the forests, 
and reclaim the land. 

At first, he was onltj a pioneer. lie had few 
neiglibors, he belonged to no community — his 
household was his country, his family were his 
only associates or companions. In the course 
of time others followed him — he could* occa- 
sionally meet a white man on the prairies ; if he 
wandered a few miles from home, he could see 
the smoke of another chimney in the distance. 
If he did not at once abandon his "clearing" 
and go further west, lie became, in some sort, a 
member of society — was the fellow-citizen of 
his neighbors. The Indians became alarmed 
for their-hunting grounds, or the nations went 
to war and drew them into the contest: the 
frontier became unsafe: \\\q presence of danger 



THE K ANGER. 159 

drew the pioneers together : tliey adopted a sys- 
tem of defence, and the ranger was the offspring 
and representative of a new order of things. 

Kougli and almost savage as he sometimes 
was, he was still the index to a great improve- 
ment. Rude as the system was, it gave shape 
and order to what had before been mere chaos. 

The ranger marks a new era, then ; his ex- 
istence is another chapter in the history of the 
west. Previous to his time, each pioneer de- 
pended only on himself for defence — his sole 
protection, against the wild beast and the savage, 
was his rifle — self-dependence was his peculiar 
characteristic. The idea of a fighting establish- 
ment — the germ of standing armies — had never 
occurred to him : even the rudest form of civil 
government was strange to him — taxes, salaries, 
assessments, w^ere all "unknown quantities." 

But, gradually, all this changed ; and with 
his circumstances, his character was also modi- 
fied. He lost a little of his sturdy independ- 
ence, his jealousy of neighborhood was softened 
— his solitary habits became more social — he 
acknowledged the necessity for concert of ac- 
tion — he merged a part of his individuality 
into the community, and — became a ranger. 

In this capacity, his character was but little 



1^0 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 

different to what it had been before the change ; 
and, though that change was a great improve- 
ment, considered with reference to society, it 
may safely be doubted whether it made the in- 
dividual more respectable. He was a better 
citizen^ because he now contributed to the com- 
mon defence : but he was not a better rnan^ 
because new associations brought novel temp- 
tations, and mingling with other men Avore 
away the simplicity, which was the foundation 
of his manliness. ' Before assuming his new 
character, moreover, he never wielded a weap- 
on except in his own defence — or, at most, in 
avenging his own wrongs. The idea of justice 

— claiming reparation for an injury, which he 
alone could estimate, because by him alone it 
was sustained — protected his moral sense. But, 
when he assumed tlie vindication of his neigh- 
bor's rights, and the reparation of his wrongs 

— however kind it may have been to do so — 
he was sustained only by the spirit of hatred to 
the savage, could feel no such justification as 
the consciousness of injury. 

Here was the first introduction of the mer- 
cenary character, which actuates the hireling 
soldier ; and, though civilization was not then 
far enough advanced, to make it very conspicu- 
ous, there were other elements mingled, which 



THE KANGEK. 161 

could not but depreciate the simple nobility of 
the pioneer's nature. Many of the qualities 
which, in him, had been merely passive, in the 
ranger became iierce and active. We liave al- 
luded, for example, to his hatred of the Indian ; 
and this, habit soon strengthened and exagger- 
ated. JS'othing marks that change so plainly as 
his adoption of the barbarous practice of scalp- 
ing enemies. 

For this there might be some little palliation 
in the fact, that the savage never considered a 
warrior overcome, though he were killed, un- 
less he lost his scalp ; and so long#s he could 
bring off the dead bodies of his comrades, not 
mutilated by the process, he was but partially 
intimidated. Defeat was, in that case, convert- 
ed to a sort of triumph ; and having gone with- 
in one step of victory — for so this half-success 
was estimated ^ — was the strongest incentive to 
a renewal of the effort. It might be, therefore, 
that the ranger's adoption of the custom was a 
measure of self-defence. But it is to be feared 
that this consideration' — weak as it is, when 
stated as an excuse for cruelty so barbarous — 
had but little influence in determining the ran- 
ger. Adopting the code of the savage, the prac- 
tice soon became a part of his warfare ; and 
the taking of the scalp was a ceremony neces- 



1G2 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

pary to the completion of liis victoiy. It was a 
l)loo(]v and inlmman trinmpli — a custom which 
tended, more forcibly than any other, to de- 
grade true courage to mere cruelty ; and which, 
while it only mortified the savage, at the same 
time, by rendering his hatred of the white men 
more implacable, aggravated the horrors of In- 
dian warfare. But the only measure of justice 
in those days, was the lex talionis — "An eye 
for an eye," a scalp for a scalp ; and, even 
now, you may hear frontiermen justify, though 
they do not practise it, by quoting the venera- 
ble maximji^' Fight the devil with fire." 

But, though the warfare of the ranger was 
sometimes distinguished by cruelty, it was also 
ennobled by features upon which it is far more 
pleasant to dwell. 

No paladin, or knight, of the olden times, 
ever exhibited more wild, romantic daring, 
than that which formed a part of the ranger's 
daily action. Danger, in a thousand forms, 
beset him at every step — he defied mutilation, 
death by fire and lingering torture. The num- 
ber of his enemies, he never counted, until after 
he had conquered them — the power of the 
tribe, or the prowess of the warrior, was no ele- 
ment in his calculations. Where he could 



THE RxVXGER. 163 

Bfrlkc first and most cffoctnally, was liis only 
iiKjuiiy. Securing an avenue for retreat was 
no part of his strategy — for he had never an 
intention or thought of returning, except as a 
victor. "Keeping open his communications," 
either with the rear or the flanks, had no place 
in his system ; " combined movements" he sel- 
dom attempted, for he depended for victory, 
upon the force he chanced to have directly at 
hand. The distance from his " base of opera- 
tions" be never measured ; for he carried all 
his supplies about his person, and he never 
lo tked for reinforcements. Brido^es and wao:on- 
roads he did not require, for he could swim all 
the rivers, and he never lost his way in the for- 
est. He carried his artillerj^ uj^on his shoulder, 
his tactics were the maxims of Indian warfare, 
and his only drill was the " ball-practice" of 
the w^oods. He was his own commissary, for 
he carried his " rations" on his back, and re- 
plenished his havresack with his rifle. He 
needed no quartermaster ; for he furnished his 
own "transportation," and selected his own 
encampment ^ — -his bed was the bosom of moth- 
er-earth, and his tent was the foliage of an oak 
or the canopy of heaven. In most cases — 
especially in battle — he was his own com- 
mander, too ; for he was impatient of restraint, 



164: WESTERN CIIAKACTEES. 

and in savage warfare knew Lis dntj as well as 
an J man could instruct him. Obedience was 
no part of liis nature — subordination was irk- 
some and oppressive. In a word, lie was an 
excellent soldier, without drill, discipline or 
orsranization. 

o 

Pie was as active as he was brave — as un- 
tiring as he was fearless. 

A corps of rangers moved so rapidlj, as ap- 
parently to double its numbers — dispersing on 
the Illinois or Missouri, and reassembling on 
the Mississippi, on the following daj^ — travers- 
ing tlie Okan timber to-day, and fording the 
Ohio to-morrow. One of them, noted among 
the Indians for desperate fighting, and person- 
ally known for many a bloody meeting, would 
appear so nearly simultaneously in different 
phices, as to acquire the title of a " Great Medi- 
cine;" and instances have been known, where 
as many as thiee distinct war-parties have told 
of obstinate encounters with the same men in 
one day ! Their apparent ubiquity awed the 
Indians more than their prowess. 

General Benjamin Howard, who, in eighteen 
hundred and thirteen resis^ned the office of q-ov 
ernor of Missouri, and accepted the appointment 
of brigadier-general, in command of the militia 



THE KANGEK. 165 

and rangers of Missouri and Illinois, at no time, 
except for a few weeks in eighteen hundred and 
fourteen, had more than one thousand men un- 
der his orders : And yet, with this inconsider- 
able force, he protected a frontier extending 
from the waters of the Wabash, westward to the 
advanced settlements of Missouri — driving the 
savages northward beyond Peoria, and intimi- 
dating them by the prom2)titude and rapidity 
of his movements. 

Our government contributed nothing to the 
defence of its frontieis, except an act of Con- 
gress, which authorized them to defend them- 
selves ! The Indians, amounting to at least 
twenty tribes, had been stirred up to hostility 
by the Britisli, and, before the establishment 
of rangers, were murdering and plundering al- 
most with impunity. But soon after the organ- 
ization of these companies, the tide began to 
turn. The ranger was at least a match for the 
savage in his own mode of warfare ; and he had, 
moreover, the advantages of civilized weapons, 
and a steadiness and constancy, unknown to 
the disorderly war-parties of the red men. 

He was persevering beyond all example, and 
exhibited endurance which astonished even the 
stoical savage. Three or four hours' rest, after 



166 WESTERN CHAKAOTERS. 

weeks of hardsliip and exposure, prepared him 
for another expedition. If the severity of his 
vengeance, or the success of a daring enter- 
prise, intimidated the Indian for a time, and 
gave him a few days' leisure, he grew impa- 
tient of inactivity, and was straightway phm- 
ning some new exploit. The moment one sug- 
gested itself, he set about accomplishing it — 
and its hardihood and peril caused no hesita- 
tion. He would march, on foot, hundreds of 
miles, through an unbroken wilderness, until 
he reached the j^oint where the blow was to be 
struck ; and then, awaiting the darkness, in the 
middle of the night, he would fall upon his un- 
suspecting enemies and carry all before him. 

During the war of independence, the ran- 
gers had not yet assumed that name, nor were 
they as thoroughly organized, as they became 
in the subsequent contest of eighteen hundred 
and twelve. But the same material was there 
— the same elements of character, actuated by 
the same spirit. Let the following instance 
show what that spirit was. 

In the year seventeen hundred and seventy- 
seven, there lived at Cahokia — on the east 
side of the ISlississippi below Saint Louis — a 
Pennsylvanian by the name of Brady — a rest- 



THE KANGKR. 167 

less, daring man, just made for a leader of ran- 
gers. In an interval of inactivity, lie conceived 
the idea of capturing one of the British posts in 
Michigan, the nearest point of which was at 
least three hundred miles distant ! lie forth- 
with set about raising a company — and, at the 
end of three days, found liiniself invested with 
the command of sixteen men ! With these, on 
the first of October, he started on a journey of 
more than one hundred leagues, through the 
vast solitudes of the prairies and the thousand 
perils of the forest, to take a military station, 
occupied by a detachment of British soldiers ! 
After a long and toilsome march, tliey reached 
the banks of the St. Joseph's river, on which 
the object of their expedition stood. Awaiting 
the security of midnight, they suddenlj^ broke 
from their cover in the neighborhood, and by a 
coup de main^ captured the fort without the loss 
of a man ! Thus far all went well — for besides 
the success and safety of the party, they found 
a large amount of stores, belonging to traders, 
in the station, and were richly paid for their en- 
terprise — but having been detained by the foot- 
sore, on their homeward march, and probably 
delayed by their plunder, they had only reached 
the Calumet, on the borders of Indiana, wlien 
they were overtaken by three hundred British 



108 ^VESTKI^N ciiAiiAcnoRfl. 

and Indijins! Tlioy were foi'ccd to Burrcnder, 
tlioiigli not witboiit a liglit, for men of that 
Btainp were not to be intimidated by nnmbere. 
[Hwy lost in ibe slvirmish one fourtli of tlieir 
nuiubcr: tlie snrvivors were carried away to 
C^jUKubi, wlience r>rady, tbe leader, escaped, and 
retnrned 1o (^aliokia tbe same winter. Tbe 
twelve remained })risoners nntil seventeen bnn- 
dred and seventy-nine. 

Ao^ainst most men tbis reverse wonld bavo 
i;Mvcn tlie liltle fort secnrity — at least, nntil tbe 
memory of tbe disaster bad been obscured by 
tiuK'. But tbe pioneers of tbat period were not 
to be judiijed by ordinary rules. Tbe very next 
spring (17TS), anotber company was raised for 
tbe same object, and to wipe outwbat tbey con- 
sidered tbe stain of a failure. It was led by a 
man named Maize, over tbe same ground, to tbe 
same i)bu'e, and was com]>letely successful. 
Tbe fort was retaken, tbe trading-station plun- 
dered, tlie wounded men of Brady's party re- 
leased, and, loaded witb spoil, tbe little party 
marcbed back in triumpb ! 

Tbero is an ej^isode in tbe bistory of tbeir 
bomeward marcb, wbicb illustrates anotber 
cbaracteristic of tbe ranger — bis rutblessness. 



rilK UAMGlvR. 109 

'^riic Baltic ppirit wliicli loci him to diBrcgiird 
|»liy8icjil obstiiclcs, })reveiitod his Hhrinking iVom 
even diroful necoBsitles. One of tho prisonors 
^v]l()^ll llicy had liberated, becaino exhausted 
and unable to proceed. They could not cany 
him, and would not have him to die of starva- 
tion in Ihe wildeniefis. They could not halt 
\vilh him, lewt the name i'ato nhould overtake 
tluMn, which had defeated the enter])riKe of 
l>rady. ]>ut one alternative I'emained, and 
thou«;^h, to UH, it appears cruel and inhuman, it 
was self-preservation to tliem, and mercy, in a 
stran<^e guise, to tho unhap])y victim — he was 
dc^patclxul hy the hand of the leader', and 
bui-I(!(l upon tho prairie I His grave is some- 
where near the head-waters of the Wabash, and 
has probably been visited by no man from that 
day to this ! 

Mournful reflections cluster round such a 
narrative as this, and we are impelled to use 
the word " atrocious" when we speak of it. It 
was certainly a bloody deed, but tho men of 
those days were not nurturcid in drawing-rooms, 
and never sh^pt upon down-beds. A state of 
war, moreover, begets nuiny evils, and none 
ol' Ihem are more to be d(^])lor(;d than the occa- 
fiional occurrence of such terrible necessities. 
8 



170 AVESTICKN C1IAKACTER8. 

The raiigcr-clKiractcr, like tlie pioneer-natnre 
of which it was a phase, was conipounded of 
various and widely-differing elements. 'No one 
of his evil qualities was more prominent than 
several of the good ; and, I am sorry to say, 
none of the good was more prominent than 
several of the bad. No class**of men did more 
efficient service in defending the western settle- 
ments from the inroads of the Indians ; and 
though it seems hard that the war should some- 
times have been carried into the country of the 
untutored savage by civilized men, with a 
severity exceeding his own, we should remem- 
ber that we can not justly estimate the motives 
and feelings of the ranger, without first having 
been exasperated by liis sufferings and tried by 
his temptations. 



V. 

THE REGULATOR. 



' Thieves for their robbery have authority, 
When judges steal themselves."— 

Measure fob Measubb. 



At the coDcliision of peace between England 
and America, in eighteen linndred and fifteen, 
tlie Indians, who had been instigated and sup- 
ported in their hostility by the British, suddenly 
found themselves deprived of their allies. If 
they now made war upon the Americans, they 
must do so upon their own responsibility, and, 
excepting tlie encouragement of a few traders 
and commanders of outposts, whose enmity 
survived the general pacification, without assists 
ance from abroad. They, however, refused to 
lay down their arms, and hostilities were con 
tinued, though languidly, for some years longer. 
But the rangers, now disciplined by the experi 
ence of protracted warfare, and vastly increased 



172 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

in numbers, had grown to be more than a match 
for them, so that not many years elapsed before 
the conclusion of a peace, which has lasted, 
with but occasional interruptions, to the present 
day. 

When danger no longer threatened the settle- 
ments, there was no further call for these irreg- 
ular troops. The companies were disbanded, 
and those who had families, as a large propor- 
tion of them had, returned to their plantations, 
and resumed the pursuits of industry and peace. 
Those who had neither farms nor families, and 
were unfitted by their stirring life for regular 
effort, emigrated further west. Peace settled 
uj)on our borders, never, we hope, to be seriously 
broken. 

But as soon as the pressure of outward danger 
was withdrawn, and our communities began to 
expand, the seeds of new evils were developed 
— seeds which had germinated unobserved, 
while all eyes were averted, and which now 
began to shoot up into a stately growth of vices 
and crimes. The pioneers soon learned that 
there was among them a class of unprincipled 
and abandoned men, whose only motive in 
emigrating was to avoid the restraints, or escape 
the penalties, of law, and to w^hom the freedom 



THE EEaULATOE. 173 

of the wilderness was a license to commit every 
sort of depredation. The arm of the law was 
not yet strong enough to punish them. 

The territorial governments were too busy in 
completing their own organization, to give 
much attention to details : where states had. 
been formed, the statute-book was yet a blank : 
few officers had been appointed, and even these 
were strangers to their duties and charge of re- 
sponsibility. Between the military rule of the 
rangers — for they were for internal police as 
well as external defence — and the establishment 
of regular civil government, there was a sort 
of inteiTcgnum, during which there was neither 
law nor power to enforce it. The bands of 
villains who infested the country were the only 
organizations known ; and, in not a few in- 
stances, these bands included the very magis- 
trates whose duty it was to see that the laws 
were faithfully executed. Even when this was 
not the case, it was a fruitless effort to arrest a 
malefactor ; indeed, it was very often worse than 
fruitless, for his confederates were always ready 
to testify in his favor : and the usual conse- 
quence of an attempt to punish, was the draw- 
ing down upon the head of the complainant or 
prosecutor, the enmity of a whole confederacy. 
Legal proceedings, had provision been made for 



174: WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

such, were worse than useless, for conviction 
was impossible : and the effort exasperated, 
while .the failure encouraged, the outlaw spirit. 
An alibi was the usual defence, and to those 
times may be referred the general prejudice en- 
tertained among our people, even at the present 
day, against that species of testimony. A jury 
of western men will hardly credit an alihi^ 
though established by unexceptionable wit- 
nesses ; and the announcement that the accused 
depends upon that for his defence, will create 
a strong prejudice against him in advance. In- 
justice may sometimes be done in this way, but 
it is a feeling of which our people came honestly 
in possession. They established a habit, in early 
days, of never believing an alihi^ because, at 
that time, nine alihls in ten were false, and 
habits of thought, like legal customs, cling to 
men long after their reason has ceased. It is 
right, too, that it should be so, on the principle 
that we should not suspend the use of the 
remedy until the disease be thoroughly con- 
quered. 

In a state of things, such as we have de- 
scribed, but one of two things could be done : 
the citizens must either abandon all effort to 
assert the supremacy of order, and give the 



TIIE KEGULATOK. 175 

country over to tliievcs and robbers, or tliey 
must invent some new and irregular way of 
forcing men to live honestly. They wdsely 
chose the latter alternative. They consulted 
together, and the institution of Regulators was 
the result of their deliberations. 

These were small bodies of men, chosen by 
the people, or voluntarily assuming the duty — 
men upon whom the citizens could depend for 
both discretion and resolution. Their duties 
may be explained in a few words : to ferret out 
and punish criminals, to drive out " suspicious 
characters," and exercise a general supervision 
over the interests and police of the settlements, 
from which they were chosen. Their statute- 
book was the "code of Judge Lynch" — their 
order of trial was similar to that of a "drum- 
head court-martial" — the principles of their 
punishment was certainty, rapidity, and sever- 
ity. Tbey were judges, juries, witnesses, and 
executioners. 

They bound themselves by a regular compact 
(usually verbal, but sometimes in writing^), to 
the people and to each other, to rid the commu- 
nity of all thieves, robbers, plunderers, and 
^ illains of every description. They scoured the 

* See note at the close of tliis article. 



176 WESTERN CHAKACTERS. 

country in all directions and in all seasons, and 
by the swiftness of their movements, and the 
certainty of their vengeance, rivalled their pred- 
ecessors, the rangers. When a depredation 
had been committed, it was marvellous with 
what rapidity every regulator knew it ; even 
the telegra^^h of modern days performs no 
greater wonders : and it frequently happened, 
that the first the quiet citizens heard of a theft, 
or a robbery, was the news of its punishment ! 
Their acts may sometimes have been high- 
handed and imjustifiable, but on the whole — 
and it is only in such a view that social institu- 
tions are to be estimated — they were the pre- 
servers of the communities for whom they acted. 
In time, it is true, they degenerated, and some- 
times the corps fell into the liands of the very 
men they were organized to punish. 

Every social organization is liable to mis- 
direction, and this, among others, has been per- 
verted to the furtherance of selfish and unprin- 
cipled purposes ; for, like prejudices and habits 
of thought, organized institutions frequently 
survive the necessities which call them into 
existence. Abuses grow up under all systems ; 
and, perhaps, the worst abuse of all, is a meas- 
ure or expedient, good though temporary, re- 



THE REGULATOR. 177 

tained after the passing away of the time for 
which it was adopted. 

But liaviiig, in the article " Pioneer," suffi- 
ciently elaborated the character — for the regu- 
lator was of course a pioneer also — we can best 
illustrate the mode of his action by a narrative 
of facts. From the hundreds of well-authenti- 
cated stories which might be collected, I have 
chosen the two following, because they dis- 
tinguish the successive stages or periods of the 
system. The first relates to the time when a 
band of regulators was the only reliable legal 
power, and when, consequently, the vigilance 
of the citizens kept it comparatively pure. The 
second indicates a later period, when the people 
no longer felt insecure, and there was in fact no 
necessity for the system ; and when, not having 
been disused, it could not but be abused. We 
derive both from an old citizen of the country, 
who was an actor in each. One of them, the 
first, has already been in print, but owing to 
circumstances to wdiich it is needless to advert, 
it was thought better to confine the narrative to 
facts already generally known. These circum- 
stances aie no longer operative, and I am now 
at liberty to publish entire the story of " The 
First Grave." 

8* 



178 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 



THE FIRST GRAVE. 

At the commencement of the war of eighteen 
hundred and twelve, between Great Britain and 
the United States, there lived, in the western 
part of Virginia, three families, named, respec- 
tively. Stone, Cutler, and Eoberts. They were 
all respectable people, of more than ordinary 
wealth ; having succeeded, by an early emigra- 
tion and judicious selection of lands, in rebuild- 
ing fortunes which had been somewhat impaired 
east of the Blue Ridge. Between the first and 
second there was a relationship, cemented by 
several matrimonial alliances, and the standing 
of both had been elevated by this union of for- 
tunes. In each of these two, there were six or 
seven children — the most of them boyS' — but 
Captain Roberts, the head of the third, had bu^ 
one child, a daughter, who, in the year named, 
was approaching womanhood. 

She is said to have been beautiful : and, from 
the extravagant admiration of those who saw 
her only when time and sufi'ering must have 
obscured her attractions, there can be little 
doubt that she was so. What her character 
was, we can only conjecture from the tenor of 
our story : though we have reason to suspect that 



THE KECrULATOE. 179 

slie was passionate, impulsive, and somewhat 
vain of lier personal appearance. 

At the opening of liostilities between the two 
conntries, she ^vas wooed by two suitors, young 
Stone, the eldest of the sons of that family, and 
Abram Cutler, who was two or three years his 
senior. Both had recently returned home, after 
a protracted absence of several years, beyond 
the mountains, whither they had been sent by 
their ambitious parents, " to attend college and 
see the world." Stone was a quiet, modest, un- 
assuming young man, rather handsome, but too 
pale and thin to be decidedly so. Having made 
the most of his opportunities at " William and 
Mary," he had come home well-educated (for 
that day and country) and polished by inter- 
course with good society. 

His cousin, Abram Cutler, was his opposite 
in almost everything. He had been wild, reck- 
less, and violent, at college, almost entirely 
giving up his studies, after the first term, and 
always found in evil company. His manners 
were as much vitiated as his morals, for he was 
exceedingly rough, boisterous, and unpolished : 
so much so, indeed, as to approach that limit 
beyond which wealth will not make society 
tolerant. But his freedom of manner bore, to 
most observers, tlie appearance of generous 



180 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

lieartinesSj and lie soon gained tlie good will of 
the neigliborliood by the careless prodigality 
of his life. He was tall, elegantly formed, and 
quite well-looking ; and though he is said to 
have borne, a few years later, a sinister and dis- 
honest look, it is probable that most of this was 
attributable to the preconceived notions of those 
who thus judged him. 

Both these young men were, as we have said, 
suitors for the hand of Margaret Roberts, and 
it is possible that the vain satisfaction of having 
at her feet the two most attractive young men 
in the country, led her to coquet with them both, 
but decidedly to prefer neither. It is almost 
certain, that at the period indicated, she was 
sufficiently well-pleased with either to have be- 
come his wife, had the other been away. If 
she loved either, however, it was Stone, for she 
was a little timid, and Cutler sometimes fright- 
ened her with his violence : but the preference, 
if it existed at all, was not sufficiently strong to 
induce a choice. 

About this time, the elder Cutler died, and it 
became necessary for Abram, as executor of a 
large estate, to cross the mountains into the Old 
Dominion, and arrange its complicated affairs. 
It was not without misgiving that he went away, 



THE REGULATOR. 181 

but liis duties were imperative, and liis necessi- 
ties, produced by his spendthrift habits, were 
pressing. He trusted to a more than usually 
favorable interview with Margaret, and full of 
sanguine hopes, departed on his journey. 

"Whether Stone entertained the idea of taking 
an unfair advantage of his rival's absence, we 
can not say, but he straightway became more 
assiduous in his attentions to Margaret. He 
was also decidedly favored by Captain Roberts 
and his wife, both of whom had been alarmed 
by the violent character of Cutler. Time soon 
began to obscure the recollection of the absent 
suitor, and Stone's delicate and considerate 
gallantry rapidly gained ground in Margaret's 
affections. It was just one month after Cutler's 
departure that his triumph was complete ; she 
consented to be his wife so soon as the minister 
wdio travelled on that circuit should enter the 
neighborhood. But the good man had set out 
on his circuit only the day before the consent 
was given, and it would probably be at least a 
month before his return. In the meantime, 
Cutler might recross the mountains, and Stone 
had seen quite enough of Margaret's capricious- 
ness to tremble for the safety of his conquest, 
should that event occur before it was thoroughly 
secured. 



182 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

This was embarrassing : but when a man is 
in earnest, exj^edients are never wanting. 

There was an old gentleman living a few 
miles from the valley, who had once held the 
commission of a justice of the peace, and 
thongh he had not exercised his functions, or 
even claimed his dignity, for several years. Stone 
was advised that he retained his official power 
'' until his successor was appointed and quali- 
fied," and that, consequently, any official act of 
his would be legal and valid. He was advised, 
moreover, and truly, that even if the person per- 
forming the ceremony were not a magistrate, a 
marriage would be lawful and binding upon the 
simple " consent" of the parties, properly pub- 
lished and declared. 

Full-freighted with the happy news, he posted 
away to Captain Roberts, and without difficulty 
obtained his sanction. He then went to Mar- 
garet, and, with the assistance of her mother, 
who stood in much dread of Cutler's violence, 
succeeded in persuading her to consent. With- 
out delay, the cidevant magistrate was called in, 
the ceremony was performed, and Margaret was 
Stone's wife ! 

The very day after this event. Cutler return- 
ed ! What were his thoughts no one knew, for 



THE EEGULATOE. 183 

he spoke to none upon the subject. He went, 
however, to see " the bride," and, in the presence 
of others, bantered her pleasantly upon her new 
estate, npon his own pretensions, and upon the 
haste with which the ceremony had been per- 
formed. He started away with the rest of the 
company present; but, on reaching the door — 
it was afterward remembered — pretended to 
have forgotten something, and ran back into the 
room where they had left Margaret alone. Here 
he remained full ten minutes, and when he came 
out walked thoughtfully apart and disappeared. 
"What he said to Margaret no one knew ; but, 
that evening, when they were alone, she asked 
anxiously of her husband, " whether he was 
quite sure that tbeir marriage had been legal?" 
Stone reassured her, and nothing more was said 
upon the subject. 

Cutler had brought with him, over the moun- 
tains, the proclamation of the governor of Yir- 
ginia, announcing the declaration of war, and 
calling upon the state for its quota of troops to 
repel invasion. He manifested a warm interest 
in the enrolling and equipment of vo'nnteers, 
and, in order to attest his sincerity, placed his 
own name first upon the roll. A day or two 
afterward, on meeting Stone, in the presence of 



184 WESTEEN CHARACTERS. 

several others who had enrolled themselves, he 
laughingly observed, that the new bridegroom 
" was probably too comfortable at home, to de- 
sire any experience in campaigning :" and, turn- 
ing away, he left the company laughing at 
Stone's expense. 

This touched the young man's pride — proba- 
bly the more closely, because he was conscious 
that the insinuation was not wholly void of truth 
— and, without a moment's hesitation, he called 
Cutler back, took the paper, and enrolled his 
name. Cutler laughed again, said he would 
not liave done so, had he been in Stone's cir- 
cumstances, and, after some further conversa- 
tion, walked away in the direction of Stone's 
residence. Whether he actually entered the 
house is not known ; but wlien the young hus- 
band returned home, a few hours afterwai d, his 
wife's first words indicated that she knew of his 
enrolment. 

"Is it possible," said she, with some asperity, 
" that you ah-eady care so little for me as to en- 
rol yourself for an absence of six months?" 

Stone would much have preferred to break 
the news to her himself, for he had some fore- 
boding as to the view she might take of his 
conduct. lie had scarcely been married a week, 
and he was conscious that a severe construction 



THE REGULATOR. 185 

of the act of enrolment, when there was no- 
toriously not the least necessity for it, might 
lead to inferences, than which, nothing could 
he more false. If he had said, at once, that he 
had been taunted by his old rival, and written 
his name under the influence of pride, all would 
have been well, for his wife would then have 
understood, though she might not have ap- 
proved his action. But this confession he was 
ashamed to make, and, by withholding it, laid 
the foundation for his own and his wife's de- 
struction. He at once acknowledged the fact, 
disclaiming, however, the indijBference to her, 
which she inferred, and placing the act upon 
higher ground : — 

" The danger of the country," he said, " was 
very imminent, and it became every good citizen 
to do all he could for its defence. He had no 
idea that the militia would be called far from 
home, or detained for a very long time ; but, in 
any event, he felt that men wer^ bound, in such 
circumstances, to cast aside personal considera- 
tions, and contribute, each his share, to the 
common defence." 

His wife gazed incredulously at him while he 
talked this high patriotism : and well she might, 
for lie did not speak as one moved by such feel- 
ings. The consciousness of deceit, of conceal- 



186 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

ment, and of cliildisli rashness, rendered his 
manner hesitating and embarrassed. Margaret 
observed all this, for her jealousy was aroused 
and her suspicions sharpened ; she made no 
reply, however, but turned away, with a toss of 
the head, and busied herself, quite fiercely, with 
her household cares. From that moment, until 
the day of his departure, she stubbornly avoid- 
ed the subject, listening, but refusing to reply, 
when her husband attempted to introduce it. 
"When Cutler came — rather unnecessarily, aa 
Stone thought' — to consult him about the or- 
ganization of a spy-company, to which both 
were attaclied, she paid no attention to their 
conversation, but walked away down a road 
over which she knew Cutler must pass on his 
return homeward. Whether this was by ap- 
pointment with him is not known : probably, 
however, it was her own motion. 

TVe need not stay to detail all that took place 
between her and her former suitor, when, as she 
had expected, they met in a wood some hun- 
dreds of yards from her home ; its result will 
sufiiciently appear in the sequel. One circum- 
stance, however, we must not omit. She re- 
curred to a conversation whijch had passed some- 
time before, in relation to the legality of her 



THE REGULATOR. 187 

mnrnage ; and tlioiigli Cutler gave no positive 
opinion, his parting advice was nearly in the 
following words : — 

" If jou think, from your three weeks' expe- 
rience, that Stone cares enough for you to make 
it prudent, I would advise you to have the mar- 
riage ceremony performed by Parson Bowen, 
immediately u})on his return ; and if you care 
enough for him to wish to retain him, you had 
better have it performed hefore he goes awayP 

"With these words, and without awaiting an 
answer, he passed on, leaving her alone in the 
road. AVhen she returned home, she did not 
mention the subject ; and though Parson Bowen 
returned to the neighborhood quite a week 
before Stone went away, she never suggested a 
repetition of the ceremony. When Stone mani- 
fested some anxiety on the subject, she turned 
suddenly upon him and demanded — 

" You do not think our marriage legal, then ?" 

He assured her that he only made the sug- 
gestion for her satisfaction, entertaining no 
doubt, himself, that they w^ere regularly and 
lawfully married. 

" I am content to remain as I am," she said, 
curtly, and the parson was not summoned. 

Five days afterward the troops took up the 
line of march for the frontier. Hull had not 



188 WESTEEN CIIARAC"rEE3. 

jet surrendered Michigan ; but Proctor had so 
stirred np tlie Indians (wlio, until then, had been 
quiet since the battle of Tippecanoe), as to cut 
off all communication with the advanced settle- 
ments, and even to threaten the latter with fire 
and slaughter. Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, were 
then oveirun by British and Indians; for Hop- 
kins had not yet commenced his march from 
Kentnckv, and Concrress was still debatin^^ meas- 
ures for protection. Hull's surrender took place 
on the sixteenth of August, eighteen hundred 
and twelve, and in the following month. General 
Harrison, having been appointed to the chief 
command in the northwest, proceeded to adopt 
vigorous measures for the defence of the country. 
It was to one of the regiments organized by 
him, that our friends from Virginia found them- 
selves attached. They had raised a company 
of spies, and in this both Stone and Cutler held 
commissions. 

They marched with the regiment, or rather in 
advance of it, for several weeks. By that time, 
they had penetrated many miles beyond the 
settlement.^, and Harrison began to feel anxious 
to ascertain the position of General Hopkins, 
and open communications with him. For this 
service Cutler volunteered, and was imme- 



I 



THE r.EGULATOK. ISO 

diately selected by the general. On the folloTT- 
ing morning, he set out with live men to seek 
the Kentuckians. He found them without dijQi- 
eulty and delivered his despatches : but from 
that day he was not seen, either in the camp of 
Hopkins or in that of Harrison I It was sup- 
posed that he had started on his return, and 
been taken or killed by the Indians, parties of 
whom were prowling about between the lines 
of the two columns. 



Stone remained with his company two or 
three months longer, when, the enterprise of 
Hopkins having failed, and operations being 
suspended for the time, it was thought inex- 
pedient to retain them for the brief period 
which remained of their term of enlistment, 
and they were discharged. Stone returned 
home, and, full of anticipations, the growth of a 
long absence, hastened at once to his own house. 
The door was closed, no smoke issued from the 
chimney, there was no one there ! After calling 
in vain for a long time, he ran away to her 
father's, endeavoring to feel certain that he would 
find her there. But the old man received him 
with a mournful shake of the head. Margaret 
Lad been gone more than a month, no one knew 
whither or with whom ! 



190 WESTERN CHARACTEE9. 

A report had been in circulation that Cutler 
was seen in the neighborhood, a few days before 
her disappearance ; but no news having been 
received of his absence from the army, it had 
not been generally credited. But now, it was 
quite clear! 

The old man invited Stone to enter, but he 
declined. Sitting down on a log, he covered his 
face with his hands, for a few moments, and 
seemed buried in grief. It did not last long, 
however : he rose almost immediately, and going 
a little aside, calmly loaded his rifle. Without 
noticing the old man, who stood gazing at him 
in wonder, he turned away, and, with his eyes 
fixed upon the ground, took the path toward his 
own house. He was seen to break the door and 
enter, but he remained within only a few 
minutes. On coming out, he threw his rifle 
over his shoulder, and walked away through the 
forest. Half an hour ftfterward, smoke was 
seen issuing from the roof of the house in several 
places, and on repairing thither, the neighbors 
found the whole place in a bright flame ! It 
was of no use to attempt to save it or any of its 
contents. An hour afterward, it was a heap of 
smouldering ruins, and its owner had disap- 
peared from the country ! 



THE EEGULATOR. 191 

* * -X- * ^ 

Seven years passed away. 

The war was over: the Indians had been 
driven to the north and west, and the tide of 
emigration had again set toward the Missis- 
sippi. The northwestern territory — especially 
that part of it which is now included within the 
limits of Illinois and Indiana — was rapidly fil- 
ling lip with people from the south and east. The 
advanced settlements had reached the site of 
Sj)ringfield, in the " Sangamon country,"* now 
the capital of Illinois, and a few farms were 
opened in the north of Madison county — now 
Morgan and Scott. The beautiful valley, most 
inaptly called, of the Mauvaisterre^ was then 
an unbroken wilderness. 

The grass was growing as high as the head 
of a tall man, where now well-built streets and 
public squares are traversed by hurrying crowds. 
Groves which have since become classic were 
then impenetrable thickets ; and the only guides 
the emigrant found, through forest and prairie, 
were the points of the compass, and the courses 

* The "Sangamon country," as the phrase was then used, 
included all the region watered by the river of that name, to- 
gether with the counties of Cass, Morgan, and Scott, as far 
Bouth as Apple creek. 



192 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

of streams. But in tlie years eighteen hundred 
and seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen, the west- 
ern slope of the Sangamon country began 
rapidly to improve. Reports had gone abroad 
of " the fertility of its soil, the beauty of its 
surface, its genial climate, and its many ad- 
vantages of position" — and there is certainly 
no country which more richly deserves these 
praises. 

But the first emigrant who made his appear- 
ance here, in the autumn of eighteen hundred 
and nineteen, was probably moved by other 
considerations. It was none other than Abram 
Cutler ! And his family consisted of a wife and 
three young children ! That wife was Margaret 
Eoberts — or rather Margaret Stone ; for, not- 
withstanding the representations of Cutler, her 
union with Stone had been perfectl}^ legal. By 
what arts he had succeeded in inducing her to 
elope with him, we can only judge from his 
previous proceedings ; but this is certain, that 
resentment toward Stone, who, she probably be- 
lieved, had unfairly trapped her, was as likely 
to move her impulsive and unstable spirit, as 
any other motive. Add to this, the wound 
given to her vanity by the sudden departure of 
her young husband upon a long campaign, with 



THE EEGULATOR. 193 

the aciiteness given to this feeling by the arts 
of Cutler, and we shall not be at a loss to ex- 
plain her action. 

Whether she had not bitterly repented her 
criminal haste, we know not ; but that hardship 
and suffering of some sort had preyed upon her 
spirit, was evident in her appearance. Her 
beauty was much faded ; she had grown pale 
and thin ; and though she was scarcely yet in 
the prime of womanhood, her step w^as heavy 
and spiritless. She was not happy, of course, 
but her misery was not only negative : the 
gnawings of remorse were but too positive and 
real ! 

Cutler was changed almost as much as his 
victim. The lapse of seven years had added a 
score to his apparent age ; and, if we are to 
credit the representations of persons who were 
probably looking for signs of vice, the advance 
of time had brought out, in well-marked linea- 
ments, upon his countenance, the evil traits of 
his character. His cheeks were sunken, his 
features attenuated, and his figure exceedingly 
spare, but he still exhibited marks of great per- 
sonal strength and activity. His glance, always 
of doubtful meaning, was now unsettled and 
furtive ; and I have heard one of the actors in 
this history assert, that it had a scared, appro- 
9 



194: WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

hensive expression, as if he were in constant 
expectation of meeting a dangerous enemy. 

ISTor is this at all improbable, for during the 
seven years which had elapsed since the con- 
summation of his design upon Margaret, he had 
emigrated no less than three times — frightened 
away, at each removal, by some intimation, or 
suspicion, that the avenger was on his track ! 
!N"o wonder that his look was wary, and his face 
pale and Laggard ! 

On this, his fourth migration, he had crossed 
the prairies from the waters of the Wabash ; 
and having placed the wide expanse of waving 
plain between him and the settlements, he at 
length considered himself safe from pursuit. 
Passing by the little trading-station, where 
Springfield now stands, he traversed the beau- 
tiful country lying between that and the Mau- 
vaisterre. But the alternation of stately timber 
and lovely prairie had no charms for him : he 
sought not beauty or fertility, but seclusion ; 
for his pilgrimage had become wearisome, and 
his step was growing heavy. Remorse was at 
his heart, and fear — the appealing face of his 
patient victim kept his crime in continual re- 
membrance — and he knew, that like a blood- 
hound, his enemy was following behind. It 



TUE KEGULATOK. 195 

was a weary load ! No wonder that his cheeks 
were thin or his eyes wild ! 

He passed on till he came to a qniet, secluded 
spot, where he thought himself not likely soon 
to be disturbed by emigration. It was sixteen 
miles west of the place where Jacksonville has 
since been built, upon the banks of the lower 
Mauvaisterre, seven miles from the Illinois river. 
The place was long known as Cutler's grove, 
but a town grew up around it, and has been 
christened by the sounding name of Exeter. 
Those who visit it now, and have heard the 
story of Cutler, will commend his judgment iu 
selecting it for retirement ; for, town as it is, a 
more secluded, dreamy little place is nowhere 
to be found. It would seem that the passage 
of a carriage through its street — for it has but 
one — would be an event in its history ; and the 
only things which redeem it, in the fanc}^, from 
the category of visionary existences, are a black- 
smith's shop and a mill ! 

But Cutler's trail was seen upon the prairies, 
and the course of many an emigrant was deter- 
mined by the direction taken by his prede- 
cessor. It was not long before others came to 
" settle" in the neighborhood. Emigration was 



196 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

gradually encroaching, also, from tlie sontli ; 
families began to take possession of the river 
" bottoms ;" the smoke from frontier cabins 
ascended in almost every point of timber ; and 
by the summer of eighteen hundred and twenty, 
Cutler found himself as far from the frontier as 
ever ! But he was resolved not to move again : 
a dogged spirit — half weariness, half desj^air 
— had taken possession of him. " I have moved 
often enough," he said to Margaret, " and here 
I am determined to remain, come what may !" 

Actuated by such feelings — goaded by a fear 
which he could not conquer, and yet was reso- 
lute not to indulo:e — the lurkino: devil in his 
nature could not long remain dormant. Kothing 
develops evil tendencies so rapidly as the con- 
sciousness of wrong and the fear of punishment. 
His life soon became reckless and abandoned, 
and the first si^n of his deo-radation was his 
neglect of his household. For days together 
Margaret saw nothing of him ; his only com- 
l^anions were the worthless and outlawed ; and, 
when intoxicating liquors could be procured, 
which was, fortunately, not often, he indulged 
in fearful excesses. 

Of evil compan}^, there was, unhappily, but 
too much ; for the settlement was cursed with a 



THE REGULATOR. 197 

band of desperadoes, exiles from organized so- 
ciety, who had sought the frontier to obtain 
impunity for their misdeeds. The leaders of 
this band were three brothers, whom no law 
could control, no obligation restrain ; and with 
these men Cutler soon formed a close and sus- 
picious intimacy. The eyes of the citizens had 
been for some time directed toward the com- 
panions, by circumstances attending various 
depredations ; and, though unknown to them- 
selves, they were constantly watched by many 
of their neighbors. It is uncertain whether 
Cutler was acquainted with the character uf the 
men when his association with them first com- 
menced, for in none of the places where he had 
lived, had he hitherto been suspected of crime. 
It is most probable that he sought their company 
because they were " dissipated" like himself: 
and that, in the inception of their acquaintance, 
there was no other bond between them than the 
habit of intoxication. 

Had we time and space, we would fain pause 
here to reflect upon the position and feelings 
of the false wife — deserted, in her turn, by l)im 
for whom she had given up truth and honor — 
alone in the wilderness with her children, whose 
birth she could not but regret, and harassed by 



198 WESTEEN CHAEACTEKS. 

tlionglits wliicli could not but be painfally self- 
condemning. But we must hasten on. 

In the autumn of eighteen hundred and 
twenty, information was brought to the settle- 
ment, that a store at Springfield (as it is now 
called), had been entered and robbed — that the 
leaders of the desperadoes above alluded to, 
were suspected — and that the goods stolen were 
believed to be concealed in Cutler's grove, 
where they lived. Warrants w^ere issued, and 
the three were arrested; but the magistrate 
before whom they were taken for examination, 
was a timid and ignorant man ; and by the inter- 
ference of Cutler, who assumed to be a lawyer, 
they were examined separately, and allowed to 
testify, each for the other ! An officer who 
knew no more than to permit this, of course 
could do no less than discharge them. Tlie 
arrest and examination, however, crude and in- 
formal as they were, confirmed the suspicions 
of the citizens, and directed them, more vehe- 
mently than ever, against Cutler, as well as his 
friends. It satisfied them, moreover, that they 
would never be able to reach these men through 
tlie ordinary forms of law, and strengthened the 
counsels of those who had already suggested 
the organization of a company of regulators. 



THE REGULATOR. 199 

AVhile these tliino'S were fermentino: in the 
minds of the people, the desperadoes, encour- 
aged by their success, and rendered bold by im- 
punity, committed their depredations more 
frequently and openly than ever. It was re- 
marked, too, that Cutler, having committed 
himself at the examination of friends, was now 
more constantly and avowedly their associate ; 
and, since he was not a man to play a second 
part, that they deferred to him on all occasions, 
never moving without him, and treating him at 
all times as an acknowledged leader. The 
people observed, moreover, that from being, like 
his neighbors, a small farmer of limited posses- 
sions, he rose rapidly to what, on the frontier, 
was considered affluence. He soon ceased to 
labor on his lands, and set up a very considera- 
ble " store," importing his goods from Saint 
Louis, and, by means of the whiskey he sold, 
collecting all the idle and vicious of the settle- 
ment constantly about him. His '^ store" was 
in exceedingly bad repute, and the scanty repu- 
tation whicli he had retained after the public 
part he had taken before the magistrate, was 
speedily lost. 

Things were in this state in the spring of 
eighteen hundred and twenty-one, when an old 



200 ^VESTEEN CHARACTERS. 

gentleman of respectable appearance, who had 
emigrated to this country bj water, having been 
pleased with the land in the neighborhood of 
the place where the town of Naples now stands, 
landed his family and effects, and settled npon 
the " bottom." It was soon rumored in the 
settlement, that he had bronght with him a large 
amount of money ; and it was also remarked 
that Cutler and his three companions were con- 
stantly with him, either at the " Grove" or on 
the " bottom." Whether the rumor was the 
cause of their attention, or their assiduity the 
foundation of the report, the reader must deter- 
mine for himself. 

One evening in May, after a visit to this man, 
where Cutler had been alone, he came home in 
great haste, and suddenly announced to Mar- 
garet his intention to " sell out," and move fur- 
ther westward ! His unhappy victim supposed 
she knew but too well the meaning of this new 
movement : she asked no questions, but, with 
a sigh of weariness, assented. On the follow- 
ing day, he commenced hastily disposing of 
his " store," his stock, his cabin — everything, in 
fact, save a few farming ntensils, his furniture, 
and a pair of liorses. It was observed — for 
there were many eyes npon him — that he 



THE RKGULATOK. 201 

never ventured out after twilight, and, even in 
the broad sunshine, would not travel far, alone 
or unarmed. In such haste did he seem, that 
lie sold many of his goods at, what his friends 
considered, a ruinous sacrifice. The fame of 
great bargains brought many people to his 
counter, so that, within ten days, his arrange- 
ments were complete ; and, much to the satis- 
faction of his neighbors, he set out toward the 
river. 

Two of his associates accompanied him on his 
journey — a precaution for which he would give 
no reason, except that he wished to converse 
with them on the way. He crossed the Illinois 
near the mouth of the Mauvaisterre, and, turn- 
ing northward, in the evening reached a cabin 
on the banks of M'Kee's creek, not more than 
ten miles fiom his late residence. This house 
had been abandoned by its former occupant, on 
account of the foraj^s of the Indians ; Init was 
now^ partially refitted, as for a temporarj^ abode. 
Here, the people about "the grove" were sur- 
prised to learn, a few^ days after Cutler's de- 
parture, that he had halted with the apparent 
intention to remain, at least for some time. 

Their surprise w^as dissipated, however, with- 
in a very few weeks. Tiie old gentleman, 
9* 



202 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

spoken of abov^e, had left home upon a visit to 
Saint Louis; and during his absence, his honse 
had been entered, and robbed of a chest con- 
taining a large amount of money — while the 
family were intimidated by the threats of men 
disguised as savages. 

This was the culmination of villany. The 
settlement was now thoroughly aroused ; and, 
when one of these little communities was once 
in earnest, it might safely be predicted that 
something would be done ! 

The first step was to call " a meeting of the 
friends of law and order;" but no proclamation 
was issued, no handbills were circulated, no 
notices posted : not the least noise was made 
about the matter, lest those against whom it 
was to act, might hear of and prepare for it. 
They came together quietly but speedily — 
each man, as he heard of the appointment, 
going forthwitli to his neighbor with the news. 
They assembled at a central point, where none 
need be late in coming, and immediately pro- 
ceeded to business. The meeting was not al- 
together a formal one — for purposes prescril)ed 
bylaw — but it was a characteristic of those 
men, to do everything " decently and in 
order" — to give all their proceedings the 



THE REGULATOR. 203 

sanction and solemnity of mature deliberation. 
They organized the assemblage regularly — 
calling one of the oldest and most respectable 
of their number " to the chair" (which, on this 
occasion, happened to be the root of a large 
oak), and appointing a younger man secretary 
(though they gave liim no desk on which to 
write). There was no man there who did not 
fully understand what had brought them to- 
gether ; but one who lived in the " bottom," 
and had been the mover of the organization, 
w^as still called upon to '' explain the object of 
the meeting." This he did in a few pointed 
sentences, concluding with these significant 
w^ords : " My friends, it is time that these ras- 
cals were punished, and it is our duty to punish 
them." 

He sat down, and a silence of some moments 
ensued, when another arose, and, without any 
preliminary remarks, moved that " a company 
of regulators be now organized, and that they 
be charged with the duty of seeing the law ad- 
ministeredP The motion was seconded by 
half a dozen voices — the question was put in 
due form by the chairman, and decided unan- 
imously in the affirmative. 

A piece of paper was produced, and the pre- 
siding officer called on the meeting for volun- 



204 WESTERN CHAKAOTEES. 

teers. Ten young men stepped forward, and 
gave tlieir names as rapidly as the secretary 
could enrol them. In less than five minutes, 
the company was complete — the chairman and 
four of the meeting, as a committee, \vere di- 
rected to retire with the volunteers, and see 
that they were fully organized — and the meet- 
ing adjourned. All, except the volunteers and 
the committee, went directly home — ^ satisfied 
that the matter needed no further attention. 
Those who remained entered the house and 
proceeded to organize in the usual manner. 

A " compact" was drawn up, by the terms 
of which the regulators bound themselves to 
each other, and to their neighbors, to ferret out 
and punish the perpetrators of the offences, 
which had recently disturbed the peace of the 
settlement, and to rid the country of such vil- 
lains as were obnoxious to the friends of law 
and order. This was then signed by the vol- 
lunteers as principals, and by the committee, 
as witnesses ; and was placed in the hands of 
the chairman of the meeting for safekeeping. 
It is said to be still in existence, though I have 
never seen it, and do not know where it is to be 
found. 

When this arrangement was completed, the 
committee retired, and the company repaired 



THE llEGULATOK. 205 

to the woods, to choose a leader. They were 

not long in selecting a certain Major B , 

who had, for some weeks, made himself con- 
spicuous, by his loud denunciations of Cutler 
and his associates, and his zealous advocacy of 
"strong measures." They had — one or two 
of them, at least — some misgivings about this 
appointment; for the major was inclined to be 
a blusterer, and. the courage of these men waa 
eminently silent. But after a few minutes' dis- 
cussion, the matter was decided, and the leader 
was chosen without opposition. They at once 
dispersed, to make arrangements for the per- 
formance of their duties — having first appoint- 
ed an hour and a place of meeting. They were 
to assemble at sunset on the same day, at the 
point where the state road now crosses the 
"bluff;" and were to proceed thence, without 
delay, to Cutler's house on M'Kee's creek, a 
distance of little more than eight miles. There 
they were to search for the stolen property, and 
whether they found it or not, were resolved to 
notify Cutler to leave the country. But under 
no circumstances were they to take his life, un- 
less it became necessary in self-defence. 

Tlie hour came, and with it, to the bluff, 
came all the regulators — save one. But tliat 



206 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

one was a veiy important j^ersonage — none 
other, indeed, than the redoubtable major, 
who was to head the party. The nine were 
there a considerable time before sunset, and 
waited patiently for their captain's arrival; 
though, already, there were whisperings from 
those who had been doubtful of him in the 
outset, that he would not keep his appointment. 
And these were right — for, though they wait- 
ed long beyond the time, the absentee did not 
make his appearance. It was afterward ascer- 
tained that he excused himself upon the plea 
of sudden illness ; but he was very well again 
on the following day, and his excuse was not 
received. The ridicule growing out of the 
affair, and his reduction from the rank of major 
to that of captain, in derision, finally drove him 
in disgrace from the country. 

His defection left the little company without 
a leader; and though they were determined 
not to give up the enterprise, an obstacle to its 
prosecution arose, in the fact that no one was 
willing to replace the absent captain. Each 
was anxious to play the part of a private, and 
all had come prepared to discharge the duties 
of the expedition, to the utmost of their ability. 
But they were all young men, and no one felt 
competent to take the responsibility of com- 
mand. 



THE REGULATOR. 207 

Tliey "were standing in a gronp, consnlting 
eagerly about their course, and, as one of them 
afterward said, ^'nearly at their wits' end," 
when the circle was suddenly entered by an- 
other. He had come upon them so noiselessly, 
and they had been so much absorbed in their 
council, that no one sa^v him until he stood in 
their midst. Several of them, how^ever, at once 
recognised him, as a hunter who had recentl}^ 
aj3peared in the southern part of the county, 
and had liv^ed a singularly solitary life. 'No 
one knew his name, but, from his mode of 
life, he was already known among those who 
had heard of him, as "the wild hunter." 
He was but little above the medium height, 
and rather slender in figure ; but he was well 
and firmly built, and immediately impressed 
them w^ith the idea of great hardihood and 
activity. His face, though bronzed by expo- 
sure, was still handsome and exj^ressive; but 
there was a certain wildness in the eye, and a 
compression about the mouth, which gave it 
the expression of fierceness, as well as resolu- 
tion. He was dressed in a hunting-shirt and 
"leffo-ino^s" of deerskin, frin<2:ed or "fino:ered" 
on the edges ; and his head and feet were cov- 
ered, the one by a cap of panther's hide, and 
the others by moccasins of dressed buckskin. 



208 WESTEEN CHAKACTEE3. 

At his belt hung a long knife, and in his hand 
he carried a heavy "Kentucky rifle." 

As he entered the circle, he dropped the 
breech of the latter to the ground, and, leaning 
calmly upon the muzzle, quietly surveyed the 
countenances of the group, in profound silence. 
The regulators were too much surprised to 
speak while this was going on ; and the stran- 
ger seemed to be in no haste to open tlie con- 
versation. When he had finished his scrutiny, 
however, he stepped back a pace or two, and 
resuming his easy attitude, addiessed them : — 

"You must pardon me, my friends," he 
commenced, " when I tell you, that I have 
overheard all you have said in the hist half 
hour. I did not remain in that thicket, how- 
ever, for the purpose of eaves-dropping; but 
having accidentally heard one of you mention 
a name, the sound of which touches a chord 
whose vibrations you can not understand, I 
remained, almost against my own will, to learn 
more. I thus became acquainted with the 
object of your m.eeting, and tlie dilemma in 
which you find yourselves placed by the ab- 
sence of your leader. Now, I have but little 
interest in this settlement, and none in the pres- 
ervation of peace, or the vindication of law, 
anywhere : but I have been seeking this man, 



THE KEGULATOE. 209 

Cutler, of whom you spoke, nearly nine years. 
I supposed, a few days ago, that I had at last 
found him ; but on going to his house, I learned 
that he had once more emigrated toward the 
west. You seem to know where he is to be 
found, and are without a leader: I wish to find 
him, and, if you will accept my services, will 
fill the 2)lace of your absent captain !" 

He turned away as he finished, allowing 
them an opportunity for consultation among 
themselves. The question was soon decided : 
they called him back — announced their wil- 
lingness to accept him as their leader — and 
asked his name. 

" My name is Stone^^ he replied. 

It was after nightfall w^hen the little party 
set out from the blufi*. They had, then, more 
than eight miles to travel, over a country en- 
tirely destitute of roads, and cut up by num- 
berless sloughs and ponds. They had, more- 
over, a considerable river to cross, and, after 
that, several miles of their way lay through a 
dense and pathless forest. But they were not 
the men to shrink from difficulties, at any time ; 
and now they were carried along even more 
resolutely, by the stern, unwavering spirit of 
their new leader. Having once learned the 



210 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

direction, Stone put himself at the head of the 
party, and strode forward, almost " as the bird 
flies," directly toward the point indicated, re- 
gardless of slongh, and swamp, and thicket. 
He moved rapidly, too — so rapidly, indeed, 
as to tax the j)owers of some of his follovvers 
almost too severely. IsTotwithstanding this 
swiftness, however, they could not avoid a 
long delay at the river; and it was conse- 
quently near midnight, when, having at last 
accomplished a crossing, they reached the 
bank of M'Kee's creek, and turned up toward 
Cutler's bouse. 

This stood in the centre of a " clearing," 
some two or three acres in extent ; and upon 
reaching its eastern limit, the little company 
halted to reconnoitre. Notwithstanding the 
lateness of the hour, they discovered that the 
people of the house were still awake ; and by 
a bright light, which streamed through the 
open door, they could see several men, sitting 
and standing about the room. 

" We shall make a good haul," said one of 
the regulators ; " the whole gang is there." 
And immediately the part3^ were for rushing 
forward. But Stone restrained tliem. 

" My friends," said he, " you have taken me 
for your leader, and must obey my directions." 



THE EECa'LATOR. 211 

lie tlien annoiinced his determination to o-q 
forward alone ; instructing his men, however, 
to follow at a little distance, but in no case to 
show themselves until he should ffive the sip- 
nal. Thej agreed, though reluctantly, to this 
arrangement, and then — silently, slowly, hut 
surely — the advance commenced. The hour 
had at last arrived ! 

In the meantime, Cutler and his three friends 
were passing the time quite pleasantly over a 
bottle of backwuods nectar — commonly called 
whiskey. They seemed well pleased, too, with 
some recent exploit of theirs, and w^ere evident- 
ly congratulating themselves upon their dex- 
terity ; for, as the "generous liquid" reeked 
warmly to their brains, they chuckled over it, 
and hinted at it, and w^inked knowingly at each 
other, as if they enjoyed both the recollection 
and the whiskey — as they probably did, ex- 
ceedingly. There were four present, as we 
said — Cutler and the three worthies so often 
alluded to. These last sat not far from the 
open door ; and each in his hand held a ker- 
chief, or something of that descripticm, of 
which the contents were apparently very pre- 
cious ; for, at intervals of a few moments, each 
raised his bundle between him and the light, 



212 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 

and then were visible many circular prints, as 
if made by the coinage of the mint. This idea 
was strengthened, too, by several piles of gold 
and silver, which lay upon the table near the 
bottle, to which Cutler directed no infrequent 
glances. 

They had all been indulging pretty freely in 
tlieir devotions to the mytliological liquid — 
rewarding themselves, like soldiers after storm- 
ing a hostile city, for their hardships and 
daring. There were a few coals in the chim- 
ney, although it was early in the autumn ; and 
on them were lying dark and crumpled cinders, 
as of paper, over which little sparks were slowly 
creeping, like j&ery insects. Cutler turned them 
over with his foot, and there arose a small blue, 
flickering blaze, throwing a faint, uncertain light 
beneath the table, and into the further corners 
of tlie room, and casting shadows of the money- 
bundles on the open door. 

If the betrayer could have known what eyes 
were strained upon him, as he thus carelessly 
thrust his foot among the cinders, how changed 
his bearing would have been. Stone had now 
approached within fifty paces of the house, and 
behind him, slowly creeping after, were the 
regulators. A broad band of light streamed 



THE KEGULATOE. 213 

out across the clearing from tlie door, while, on 
eacli side of this, all lay in shadow deepened by 
the contrast. Through the shadows, cautiously 
and silently came the footsteps of the avenger! 
TJiere was no trepidation, no haste — the strange 
leader rather lingered, with a deadly slowness, 
as if the movement was a pleasant one, and he 
disliked to end it. But he never halted — not 
even for a moment — he came, like fate, slowly, 
but surely ! 

" Come, boys," said Cutler, and his voice 
penetrated the stillness quite across the clear- 
ing, "let us take another drink, and then lie 
down ; we shall have a long journey to-morrow." 

They all advanced to the table and drained 
the bottle. Cutler drank last, and then went 
back to tlie fire. He again stirred the smoul- 
dering cinders with his foot, and, turning 
about, advanced to close the door. But — he 
halted suddenly in the middle of the room — 
his face grew ashy pale — his limbs trembled 
with terror! Stone stepped upon the thresh- 
hold, and, without speaking, brought his rifie 
to his shoulder ! Cutler saw that it jDointed to 
his heart, but he had not the power to speak or 
move! 

"Villain!" said Stone, in a low, suppressed 
voice, "your hour has come, at last!" 



214: WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

Cutler was by no means a coward ; by any 
one else lie would not have been overcome, 
even for an instant. As it was, he soon recov- 
ered himself and sprang forward ; but it was 
only to fall heavily to the floor; for at the 
same moment Stone fired, and the ball passed 
directly through his heart ! A groan was the 
only sound he uttered — his arm moved, as in 
the act of striking, and then fell to the ground 
— he was dead ! 

The regulators now rushed tumultuously into 
the house, and at once seized and pinioned the 
three desperadoes ; while Stone walked slowly 
to the hearth, and resting the breech of his gun 
upon the floor, leaned calmly upon its muzzle. 
He had heard a scream from above — a voice 
which he knew too welL Margaret had been 
aroused from sleep by the report of the gun ; 
and now, in her night-dress, with her hair 
streaming in masses over her shoulders, she 
rushed down the rude stairway. The flrst ob- 
ject that met her wild gaze was the body of 
Cutler, stretched upon the floor and already 
stiffening in death. With another loud scream, 
she threw herself upon him — mingling lament- 
ations for his death, with curses upon his mur- 
derers. 

Stone's features worked convulsively, and 



THE REGULATOE. 215 

once or twice bis hand grasped tlie hilt of the 
knife which hung at his belt. At last, with a 
start, he drew it from the sheath. But, the 
next moment, he dashed it into the chimney, 
and leaning bis gun against the wall, slowlj 
adv^anced toward the unhappy woman. Grasp- 
ing her arm, he lifted her like a child from the 
body to which she clung. Averting his head, 
be drew her, struggling madly, to the light; 
and having brought her face full before the 
lamp, suddenly threw off his cap, and turned 
his gaze directly into her eyes. A scream, 
louder and more fearful than any before, rang 
even to the woods beyond the clearing ; she 
closed her eyes and shuddered, as if she could 
not bear to look upon him, whom she had so 
deeply wronged. He supported her on his 
arm, and perused her sunken and careworn 
features, for many minutes, in silence. Then 
slowly relaxing his grasp — 

"You have been punished sufficiently," he 
said ; and seating her gently upon the floor, he 
quietly replaced his knife in its sheath, resumed 
his rifle, and left the house. 

He w^as never again seen by any of the par- 
ties, except Margaret. She, soon after this 
event, returned to Yirginia ; and here Stone 



216 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

paid her an annual visit. He alwaj- & came with- 
out notice, and departed as suddenly, always 
bearing his rifle, and habited as a hunter. At 
such times he sought to be alone with her but a 
few moments, and never spoke more than three 
words : "Your punishment continues," he would 
say, after gazing at her worn and haggard face 
for some minutes ; and, then, throwing his rifle 
over his shoulder, he would again disappear for 
twelve months more. 

And truly her punishment did continue ; for 
though no one accurately knew her history, she 
was an object of suspicion to all ; and though 
she led a most exemplary life, her reputation 
was evil, and her misery was but too evident. 
One after the other, her children died, and she 
was left utterly alone ! At last her lamp also 
began to flicker, and when Stone arrived in the 
country, upon his twelfth annual visit, it was 
but to see her die, and follow her to the grave ! 
He received her last breath, but no one knew 
what 2:>assed between them in that awful hour. 
On the day after her burial he went away and 
returned no more. 

The regulators hastily dug a grave on the 
bank of the creek, and in the silence of the 
night placed Cutler within it. Then, taking 



THE KEGULATOR. 217 

possession of the stolen money, tliey released 
their prisoners, notifying them to leave the 
country within ten days, and returned to the 
east side of the river. A few years ago, a little 
mound might be seen, where they had heaped 
the dirt upon the unhappy victim of his own 
passions. It was " the first grave^^ in which a 
white man was buried in that part of the Illinois 
valley. 

At the expiration of the ten " days of grace," 
it became the duty of the regulators to see that 
their orders had been obeyed ; and, though the 
death of Cutler had been more than they had 
designed or foreseen, they had no disposition to 
neglect it. They met, accordingly, on the morn- 
ing of the eleventh day, and having chos.en a 
new leader, proceeded to Cutler's grove. They 
found the houses of all those to whom they had 
given "notice" deserted excepting one. This 
was the cabin of the youngest of the three 
brothers ; and declaring his intention to remain, 
in defiance of regulators and " Lynch law," he 
put himself upon his defence. Without cere- 
mony the regulators set fire to, the house in 
which he had barricaded himself, and ten 
minutes sufficed to smoke him out. They then 
discovered what they had not before known: 
10 



218 WESTERN" ClIAKACTERS. 

tliat liis elder brothers were also within ; and 
when the three rushed from the door, though 
taken by surprise, they were not thrown off 
their guard. The trio were at once seized, and, 
after a sharp struggle, securely pinioned. A 
short consultation tlien decided their course. 

Leaving the house to burn at leisure, they 
posted away for the river, driving their prisoners 
before them, and a march of tliree hours brought 
them to the mouth of the Mauvaisterre. Here 
they constructed a " raft," by tying half-a-dozen 
drift-logs together, and warning them that death 
would be the penalty of a return, they placed 
their prisoners upon it, pushed it into the middle 
of the stream, and set them adrift without oar 
or pole ! Although this seems quite severe 
enough, it was a light punishment compared to 
that sometimes administered by regulators ;. and 
in this case, had not blood been spilt when they 
did not intend it, it is probable that the culprits 
would have been first tied to a tree, and 
thoroughly '' lynched." 

The involuntary navigators were not rescued 
from their unpleasant position until they had 
nearly reached Saint Louis; and though they 
all swore vengeance in a loud voice, not one of 
them was ever again seen in the Sangamon 
country. 



THE REGULATOR. 219 

Vigorous measures, like those we have de- 
tailed, were usually eflectual in restoring good 
order. Where there was no trial, there was no 
room for false witnesses ; and where a punish- 
ment, not unfrequently disproportioned to the 
offence, so rapidly and certainly followed its 
commission, there was little prospect of im- 
punity, and therefore slight inducement to 
violate the law. In most localities, it required 
but few severe lessons to teach desperadoes that 
prudence dictated their emigration ; and, it must 
he acknowledged, that the regulators were 
prompt and able teachers. 

Bat we sho.uld give only a partial and incom- 
plete view of this institution (for such, in fact, 
it was), were we to notice its uses and say 
nothing of its abuse; because, like everything 
else partaking so largely of the mob element, it 
was liable to most mischievous perversions. 
Had the engine been suffered to rest, when it 
had performed its legitimate functions, all would 
have been well ; but the great vice of the sys- 
tem was its obstinate vitality : it refused to die 
when its life was no longer useful. 

As soon as the danger was past, and the call 
for his services had ceased, the good citizen, 
who alone could confine sucli a system to its 
proper limits, retired from its ranks : it was cou- 



220 WESTERN CHAEACTEKS. 

sequently left, with all ifs dangerous authority, 
in the hands of the reckless and violent. The 
selfish and designing soon filled up the places 
of the sober and honest, and from being a terror 
to evil-doers, and a protection to the peaceful 
citizen, it became a weapon in the hands of the 
very men against whom it should have been 
directed. 

When this came to be the case, the institution 
was in danger of doing more harm in its age, 
than it had accomplished of good in its youth. 
But it must not thence be inferred that it 
should never have been adopted, or that it was 
vicious in itself. In seasons of public danger, 
extraordinary powers are often intrusted to 
individuals — powers which nothing but that 
danger can justify, and which would constitute 
the dictators intolerable despots, if they were 
retained after the crises are passed. The Con- 
gress of our confederacy, for example, found it 
necessary, at one period of our Revolutionary 
struggle, to invest Washington with such 
authority ; had he exercised it beyond tlie 
pressure of immediate peril, the same outcry 
which has been made against others in similar 
circumstances, w^ould have been justly raised 
against him. And most men, less soberly con- 
stituted than "Washington, would have en- 



THE REGULATOR. 221 

deavored to retain it ; for power is a pleasant 
thing, which few have tlie self-denial to resign 
withont a struggle. The wrong consists not in 
the original delegation of the authority — for 
that is justified by the highest of all laws, the 
law of self-preservation — but in its retention 
and exercise, when the exigency no longer sup- 
ports it. 

Having parted with the authority to redress 
grievances, and provide for protection and de- 
fence, the citizen can not at once recover it — 
it remains for a time in the hands of the repre- 
sentative, and is always difficult to regain. But 
it does not therefore follow, that he should 
never intrust it to anotlier, for the inconveni- 
ence sometimes resulting from its delegation, is 
one of the incidents to human life, teaching, not 
obstinacy or jealousy, but circumspection. 

Tlie following story, related by one who is 
well-acr|uainted witli the early history of this 
countr}^, will illustrate the manner in which the 
regulator system was sometimes made subser- 
vient to men's selfish purposes ; and there have, 
unhappily, been too many instances, in which 
such criminal schemes were more successful 
than they were in this. I have entitled it 
"The Stratagem." 



222 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 



THE STRATAGEM. 

Egbert Elwood emigrated from Kentucky to 
Illinois, about the year in wliicli the latter was 
erected into a state, and passing to the north- 
west of the regions then occupied by the French 
and Yirginians, pitched his tent upon the very 
vero^e of the frontier. He was a man of violent 
passions, impatient of the restraints of law — • 
arrogant, overbearing, and inclined to the use 
of " the strong-hand." His removal had been 
caused by a difficulty with one of his neighbors, 
in which he had attempted to right himself 
without an appeal to the legal tribunals. In 
this attempt, he had not only been thwarted, 
but also made to pay rather roundly for his 
temerity ; and, vexed and soured, he had at 
once abandoned his old name, and marched off 
across the prairies, seeking a country in which, 
as he said, " a man need not meet a cursed con- 
stable every time he left his own door." His 
family consisted of three sons and one daughter, 
the latter being, at the time of his emigration, 
about sixteen years of age. 

In journeying toward the north, ho halted 
one day, at noon, within a " point" of timber, 



THE REGULATOR. 223 

wliicli extended a mile into tlie prairie, and 
was surrounded by as beautiful a piece of rol- 
ling meadow-land, as one need wish to see. lie 
was already lialf-a-daj's journey beyond tlie 
thicker settlements ; and, indulging a reason- 
able hope that he would not speedily be an- 
noyed by neighbors, he at once determined 
here to erect his dwelling and open a new 
farm. With this view, he marked oif a tract 
of about four hundred acres, including the 
point of timber in which he was encamped ; 
and before the heats of summer cauie on, he 
had a cabin ready for his recej^tion, and a con- 
siderable amount of grain planted. 

About a mile to the south, th6re was a simi- 
lar strip of timber, surrounded, like that of 
w^hicli he took possession, by a rich tract of 
"rolling prairie;" and this he at once resolved 
to include in his farm. But, reflecting that it 
must probably be some years, before any one 
else would enter the neighborhood to take it 
lip — and having only the assistance of his 
eons, but two of whom had reached manhood 
— he turned his attention, first, to the tract 
npon which he lived. This was large enough 
to engross his efforts for the present ; and, for 
two years, he neglected to do anything toward 
establishing his claim to the land he coveted. 



224 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

It is true, that he told several of his neighbors, 
Avho had now begun to settle around him, that 
lie claimed that piece, and thus prevented their 
enclosing it; but he neither "blazed" nor 
marked the trees, nor "staked off" the prairie. 

In the meantime emigration had come in, so 
much more rapidly than he had expected, that 
he found himself the centre of a populous 
neighborhood ; and among other signs of ad- 
vancing civilization, a company of regulators 
had been organized, for the protection of life 
and property. Of this band, Elwood, always 
active and forward, had been chosen leader; 
and the vigor and severity with which he had 
exercised liis functions, had given a degree of 
quiet to the settlements, not usually enjoyed 
by these frontier communities. One example 
had, at the period of the opening of our story, 
but recently been made ; and its extreme rigor 
had frightened away from the neighborhood, 
those who had hitherto disturbed its peace. 
This was all the citizens desired ; and, having 
accomplished their ends, safety and tranquillity, 
those whose conservative character had pre- 
vented the regulator system from running into 
excesses, withdrew from its ranks — but took 
no measures to have it broken up. It was thus 



THE REGULATOR. 225 

left, witli recognised authority, in tlie hands of 
Elwood, and others of his violent and unscru- 
pulous character. 

Things were in this position, when, on his 
return from an expedition of some length, El- 
wood bethought him of the handsome tract of 
land, upon which he had so long ago set his 
heart. What were his surprise and rage on 
learning^ — a fact, which the absorbing nature 
of his regulator-duties had prevented his know- 
ing sooner — that it was already in possession 
of another ! And his mortification was im- 
measurably increased, when he was told, that 
the man who had thus intruded upon what he 
considered his own proper demesne, was none 
other than young Grayson, the son of his old 
Kentucky enemy ! Coming into the neighbor- 
hood, in the absence of Elwood, the young 
man, finding so desirable a tract vacant, had at 
once taken possession ; and by the re'airn of 
the regulator had almost finished a neat and 
" roomy" cabin. He had " blazed" the trees, 
too, and "staked off" the prairie — taking all 
those steps then deemed necessary, on the fron- 
tier, to complete approi)riation. 

Elwood's first step was to order him peremp- 
torily, to desist, and give up his "improve- 
ment" — threatening him, at the same time, 
10* 



226 WESTEEN CIIAEACTEES. 

with certain and nncertain pains and penalties, 
If lie refused to obey. But Grayson only laugh- 
ed at his threats, and went stoutly on with his 
work. When the young men, whom he had 
hired to assist him in building his house, gave 
him a friendly warning, that Elwood was the 
leader of a band of regulators, and had power 
to make good his menaces, he only replied that 
" he knew how to protect himself, and, when 
the time came, should not be found wanting?" 
Elwood retired from the contest, discomfited, 
but breathing vengeance ; while Grayson fin- 
ished his house and commenced operations on 
his farm. But those who knew the headlong 
violence of Elwood's character, predicted that 
these operations w^ould soon be interrupted; 
and they were filled with wonder, when month 
after month passed away, and there were still 
no signs of a collision. 

In the meantime, it came to be rumored in 
the settlement, that there was some secret con- 
nection between Grayson and Elwood's daugh- 
ter, Hannah. They had been seen by several 
persons in close conversation, at times and 
places which indicated a desire for conceal- 
ment ; and one person even went so far as to say, 
that he had been observed to kiss her, on part- 



THE REGULATOR. 227 

ing, late in tlie evening. "Wliatever may have 
been the truth in tliat matter, it is, at all events, 
certain, that Grayson was an nnmarried man ; 
and that the quarrel between the parents of the 
pair in Kentucky, had broken up an intimacy, 
which bade fair to issue in a marriage ; and it 
is probable, that a subordinate if not a primary, 
motive, inducing him to take possession of the 
disputed land, was a desire to be near Hannah. 
!N^or was this wish without its appropriate justi- 
fication ; for, though not strictly beautiful, 
Hannah was quite pretty, and — what is better 
in a frontier girl — active, fresh, and rosy. At 
the time of Grayson's arrival in the settlement, 
she w^as a few months past eighteen ; and was 
as fine material for a border wife, as could be 
found in the new state. The former intimacy 
was soon renewed, and before the end of two 
months, it was agreed that they should be 
married, as soon as lier father's consent could 
be obtained. 

But this was not so easily compassed ; for, 
all this time, Elwood had been brooding over 
his defeat, and devising ways and means of 
recovering the much-coveted land. 

At length, after many consultations with a 
fellow named Driscol, who acted as his lieuten- 
ant in the r^^gulator company, lie acceded to a 



228 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 

proposition, made long before by that worthy, 
but rejected by El wood on account of its dis- 
honesty. He only adopted the plan, now, be- 
cause it was apparently the only escape from 
permanent defeat ; and long chafing under 
what he considered a grievous wrong, had 
made him reckless of means, and determined 
on success, at whatever cost. 

One morning, about a week after the taking 
of this resolution, it was announced that one of 
El wood's horses had been stolen, on the night 
before ; and the regulators were straightway 
assembled, to ferret out and punish so daring 
an offender. It happened (accidently, of 
course) to be a horse which had cast one of its 
shoes, only the day before ; and tliis circum- 
stance rendered it easy to discover his trail. 
Driscol, Elwood's invaluable lieutenant, dis- 
covered the track and set off upon it, almost as 
easily as if he had been present when it was 
made. He led the party away into the prairie 
toward the east; and though his companions 
declared that they could now see nothing of 
the trail, the sharp-sighted lieutenant swore 
that it was "as plain as the nose on his face" 
• — truly, a somewhat exaggerated expression: 
for the color, if not the size, of that feature in 



THE EEGULATOE. 229 

Ills countenance, made it altogether too appa- 
rent to be overlooked! Tliej followed him, 
however, convinced bj the earnestness of his 
asseverations, if not by their own eyes, until, 
after going a mile toward the east, he began 
gradually to verge southward, and, having 
wound about at random for some time, finally 
took a direct course, for the point of timber on 
which Grayson lived ! 

On arriving at the point, which terminated, 
as usual, in a dense hazel-thicket, Driscol at 
once pushed his way into the covert, and lo ! 
there stood the stolen horse ! He was tied to a 
sapling by a halter, wliich was clearly recognised 
as the property of Grayson, and leading oif 
toward the latter's house, was traced a man's 
footstep — his^ of course! Tliese appearances 
fully explained the theft, and there was not a 
man present, who did not express a decided 
conviction that Grayson w^as the thief. 

Some one remarked that his boldness was 
greater than his shr..wdness, else he would not 
have kept the horse so near. But Driscol de- 
clared, dogmatically, that this was "the smartest 
thing in the whole business," since, if the trail 
could be obliterated, no one would think of 
looking there for a horse stolen only a mile 
above ! " The calculation" was a good one, lie 



230 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

said, and it only failed of success because he- 
Driscol, happened to have a remarkably sharp 
sight for all tracks, both of horses and men. To 
this proposition, supported by ocular evidence, 
the regulators assented, and Driscol stock, pre- 
viously somewhat depressed by sundry good 
causes, forthwith rose in the regulator market to 
a respectable premium ! 

Having recovered the stolen property, the 
next question which presented itself for their 
consideration, was in what way they should 
punish the thief. To such men as they, this 
was not a difficult problem : without much de- 
liberation, it was determined that he must be at 
once driven from the country. The " days of 
grace," usually given on such occasions, were 
ten, and in pursuance of this custom, it was 
resolved that Grayson should be mercifully 
allowed that length of time, in which to arrange 
his affairs and set out for a new home : or, as 
the regulators expressed it, " make himself 
scarce." Driscol, having already, by his praise- 
worthy efforts in the cause of right, made him- 
self the hero of the affair, was invested with 
authority to notifj^ Grayson of this decree. The 
matter being thus settled, tlie corps adjourned 
to meet again ten days thereafter, in order to see 
that their judgment was duly carried into effect. 



THE EEGULATOE. 231 

Meantime, Driscol, the official mouthpiece 
of the self-constituted court of general jurisdic- 
tion, rode away to discharge himself of his 
onerous duties. Halting at the low fence which 
enclosed the scant}^ door-yard he gave the cus- 
tomary " Halloo ! the house !" and patiently 
awaited an answer. It was not long, however, 
before Grayson issued from the door and ad- 
vanced to the fence, when Driscol served the 
process of the court hi hcec verba: — 

"" Mr. Grayson, the regulators of this settle- 
ment have directed me to give you ten days' 
notice to leave the country. They will meet 
again one week from next Friday, and if you 
are not gone by that time, it will become their 
duty to punish you in the customary way." 

" What for ?" asked Grayson, quietly. 

" For stealing this horse," the functionary 
replied, laying his hand on the horse's mane, 
" and concealing him in the timber with the in- 
tention to run him off." 

'' It's Elwood's horse, isn't it ?" 

" Yes," answered Driscol, somewhat surprised 
at Grayson's coolness. 

" When was he stolen ?" asked the notified. 

" Last night," answered the official ; " I sup- 
pose you know very well without being told." 

"Do you, indeed?" said Grayson, smiling 



232 WESTEEN CHAKACTEES. 

absentlj. And then he bent his ejes upon the 
ground, and seemed lost in thought for some 
minutes. 

" Well, well," said he at length, raising his 
eyes again. " I did n't steal the horse, Driscol, 
but I suppose you regulators know best who 
ought to be allowed to remain in the settlement, 
so of course I shall have to obey." 

" I am glad to find you so reasonable," said 
Driscol, making a movement to ride away. 

" Stop ! stop !" said Grayson : " don't be in a 
hurry! I shall be gone before the ten clays are 
up, and you and I may not meet again for a 
long time, so get down and come in : let us take 
a parting drink together. I have some excellent 
whiskey, just brought home." 

Now, the worthy functionary, as we have in- 
timated, or as the aforesaid nose bore witness, 
was " quite partial" to this description of prod- 
uce : some of his acquaintances even insinuating 
that he took sometimes " a drop too much ;" and 
though he felt some misgiving about remaining 
in Grayson's company longer than his official 
duties required, the temptation was too strong 
for him, and, silencing his fears, he sprang to 
the ground. 

"Tie your horse to the fence, there,." said 
Grayson, "and come in." Driscol obeyed, and 



THE KEGULATOR. 233 

it was not long before lie was seated in tlie 
cabin with a tin-cup in his hand, and its gener- 
ous contents finding their way rapidly down his 
capacious throat. 

""Whiskey is a pleasant drink, after all, isn't 
it ?" said Grayson, suiiling at the gusto with 
which Driscol dwelt upon the draught, and at 
the same moment he rose to set his cup on the 
table behind the official. 

'' Very pleasant indeed," said Driscol, in 
repl}^, and to prove his sincerity, he raised his 
cup again to his lips. But this time he was not 
destined to taste its contents. It was suddenly 
dashed from his hand — a saddle-girth was 
thrown over his arms and body — and before he 
was aware of what was being done, he found 
himself securely pinioned to the chair ! A rope 
was speedily passed round his legs, and tied, in 
like manner, behind, so that he could, literally, 
move neither hand nor foot ! He made a furious 
effort to break away, but he would not have 
been more secure had he been in the old- 
fashioned stocks ! He was fairly entrapped, and 
though he foamed, and swore, and threatened, 
it all did no majiner of good. Of this he at 
length became sensible, and grinding his teeth 
in impotent rage, he relapsed into dogged silence. 

Having thoroughly secured his prisoner, 



234 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

Grayson, who was something of a wag, poured 
out a small quantity of tlie seductive liquor, and 
coming round in front of the ill-used official, 
smiled graciously in his face, and drank " a 
health" — 

" Success to you, Mr. Driscol," said he, " and 
long may you continue an ornament to the dis- 
tinguislied company of which you are an honored 
officer!" 

Driscol ground his teeth, but made no reply, 
and the toast was drunk, like some of those im- 
pressive sentiments given at public dinners, " in 
profound silence !" 

Having drained the cup, Grayson deposited 
it upon the table and himself in a chair ; and, 
drawing the latter up toward his companion, 
opened the conference thus : — 

" I think I have you pretty ^afe, Diiscol : eh !" 

The lieutenant made no reply. 

" I see you are not in a very sociable humor," 
continued Grayson ; " and, to tell you the truth, 
I am not much that way inclined myself: but I 
am determined to get to the bottom of this 
affair before you shall leave the house. I am 
sure you know all about it; and if you don't, 
why the worse for you, that's all." 

''What do you mean?" demanded Driscol, 
speaking for the first time. 



THE REGULATOR. 235 

*' I mean this," Grayson answered sternly : 
"I did not take that liorse from Elwood's — hut 
you did : I saw yon do it. Ent since my testi- 
mony will not be received, I am determined that 
yon shall give me a certificate in waiting that 
snch is the fact. You need n't look so obstinate, 
for by the God that made us both ! you shall not 
leave that chair alive, unless you do as I say !" 

Grayson was a large, rather fleshy man, with 
a light complexion and bine eyes ; and, though 
good-natured and hard to arouse, when once in 
earnest, as now, like all men of his stamp, he 
both looked, and was, fully capable of carrying 
his menaces into execution. The imprisoned 
functionary did not at all like the expression of 
his eye, he quailed before it in fear and shame. 
He w^as, however, resolved not to yield, except 
upon the greatest extremity. 

" Come," said Grayson, producing materials 
fur writing; "here are pen, ink, and paper: 
are you willing to write as I dictate ?" 

" ^o," said Driscol, doggedly. 

"We'll see if I can't make you willing, 
then," muttered his captor ; and, going to the 
other end of the cabin, lie took down a coil of 
rope, Avhich hung u})on a ])eg, and returned to 
his captive. Forming a noose at one end, he 
placed it about Driscol's neck, and threw the 



236 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

other end over a beam wliicli supported the 
roof. 

" Are you going to murder me ?'* demanded 
the official in ahirm. 

"Yes,'' answered Grayson, drawing the kiose 
end down, and tightening the noose about Dris- 
col's throat. 

" You'll suffer for this," said the lieutenant 
furiousl}^ 

"That won't he\p you much," coolly replied 
Grayson, tugging at the rope, until one leg of 
the chair gave signs of rising fi-om the floor, 
and Drisc'l's face exhibited unmistakable symp- 
toms of incipient strangulation. 

" Stop ! stop !" he exclaimed, in a voice re- 
duced to a mere wheeze — and Grayson " eased 
off" to hear him. 

" Won't anything else satisfy you but a writ- 
ten certificate ?" he asked — speaking with dif- 
ficulty, and making motions as if endeavoring 
to swallow something too large to pass the gate 
of his throat. 

"Nothing but that," answered Grayson, de- 
cidedly ; " and if you don't give it to me, when 
your regulator friends arrive, instead of me, 
they will find you, swinging from this beam by 
the neck !" And, seeing his victim hesitate, he 
again tugged at the rope, until the same signs 



THE REGULATOR. ^ 237 

were exhibited as before — onl}^ a little more 
a^jpareiitly. 

" Ho — hold, Grayson !" begged the fright- 
ened and strangling lieutenant; and, as his ex- 
ecutioner again relaxed a little, he continued : 
"Just let nie up, and I'll do anything you 
want." 

" That is to say," laughed Grayson, '' you 
would rather take the chances of a fight, than 
be hung up like a sheep-stealing dog ! Let you 
up, indeed !" And once more he dragged the 
rope down more vigorously than ever. 

"I — didn't — mean that — indeed!" gulped 
the unhappy official, this time almost strangled 
in earnest. 

"What did you mean then?" sternly de- 
manded Grayson, relaxing a little once again. 

"I will write the certificate," moaned the 
unfortunate lieutenant, " if you will let one arm 
loose, and won't tell anybody until the ten days 
are out — " 

" Wliy do you wish it kept secret !" 

" If I give such a certificate as you demand," 
mournfully answered the disconsolate officer, 
"I shall have to leave the country — and I 
want time to get away." 

" Oh ! that's it, is it? Well— very well." 

About an hour after this, Driscol issued from 



238 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

tlie house, and, springing npon the horse, rode 
away at a gallop toward Elwood's. Here he 
left the animal, but declined to enter ; telling 
Hannah, who happened to be in the yard, to 
say to her father that "it was all right," he 
pusbad on toward home — tenderly rubbing 
his throat, first with the right hand and then 
with the left, all the way. Three days after- 
ward, he disappeared from the settlement, and 
was heard of no more. 

Grayson waited until near nightfall, and 
then took his way, as usual, to a little chimp 
of trees, that stood near Elwood's enclosures, 
to meet Hannah. Here he stayed more than 
an liour, detailing the circumstances of the ac- 
cusation against him, and laughing with her, 
over the ridiculous figure cut by her father's 
respectable lieutenant. Before they parted 
their plans were all arranged, and Grayson went 
home in excellent humor. "What these plans 
were, will be seen in the sequel. 

Eight days went by without any event im- 
portant to our story — Hannah and Grayson 
meeting each evening, in the grove, and parting 
again undiscovered. On tlie ninth day, the 
former went to the liouse of a neighbor, where 
it was understood that she was to remain dur- 



THE REGULATOR. 239 

iiig tlie niglit, and return lionie on the follow- 
ing morning. Grayson remained on Lis farm 
until near sunset, when he mounted his horse 
and rode away. This was the last of his " days 
of grace ;" and those who saw him passing 
along the road, concluded that he had yielded 
to the dictates of prudence, and was leaving 
the field. 

On the following morning, the regulators as- 
sembled to see that their orders had been 
obeyed ; and, though Elwood was a little dis- 
concerted by the absence of Driscol, since it 
was understood that Grayson had left the 
country, the meeting was considered only a 
formal one, and the presence of the worthy lieu- 
tenant was not indispensable. They proceeded 
in high spirits to the premises, expecting to 
find the house deserted and waiting for an oc- 
cupant. Elwood was to take immediate pos- 
session, and, all the way across the prairie, was 
felicitating himself upon the ease and rapidity 
of his triumph. What was their surprise, then, 
on approaching the house, to see smoke issuing 
from the chimney, as usual — tlie door thrown 
wide open, and Grayson standing quietly in 
front of it ! Tlie party halted and a council 
was called, but its deliberations were by no 
means tedious: it was forthwith determined, 



24:0 WESTERN CnAKACTEES. 

that Grajson stood in defiance of the law^ and 
must be punished — that is, "lynched" — with- 
out delay ! The object of this fierce decree, all 
unarmed as he was, still stood near the door, 
while the company slowly approached the fence. 
He then advanced and addressed them : — 

" I think the ten days are not up yet, gen- 
tlemen," said he mildly. 

" Yes, they are," answered Elwood quickly ; 
"and we are here to know whether you intend 
to obey the authorities, and leave the country ?" 

" I think, Elwood," said the young man, not 
directly replying, " this matter can be settled 
between you me, without bloodshed, and even 
without trouble. If you will come in with 
George and John [his sons], I w^ill introduce 
you to my wife, and we can talk it over, with 
a glass of whiske3^" 

Another consultation ensued, when, in order 
to prove their dignified moderation, they agreed 
that Elwood and his sons should "go in and see 
what he had to say." 

Elwood, the elder, entered first : directly be- 
fore him, holding her sides and shaking with 
laughter, stood his rosy daughter, Hannah ! 

" My wife^ gentlemen," said Grayson, grave- 
ly introducing them. Hannah's laughter ex- 
ploded. 



THE KEGULATOR. 241 

" O, fatlier, father, father !" she exclaimeh, 
leaning forward and extending her hands ; 
"aVt you caught, beautifully!" 

The laugh was contagious ; and though the 
elder knit his brows, and was evidently on the 
point of bursting with very different emotions, 
his sons yielded to its influence, and, joining 
Hannah and her husband, laughed loudly, peal 
after peal ! 

The father could bear it no longer — he seized 
Hannah by the arm and shook her violently, till 
she restrained herself sufficiently to speak ; as 
for him, he was speechless with rage. 

" It's entirely too late to make a ' fuss,' father," 
she said at length '-for here is the marriage- 
certificate, and Grayson is your son !" 

" I have not stolen your horse, Elwood," said 
the bridegroom, taking the paper which the 
father rejected, " though I have run away with 
your daughter. And," he added, significantly, 
" since if you had this land, you would probably 
give it to Hannah, I think you and I had better 
be friends, and I'll take it as her marriage- 
portion." 

" If you can show that you did not take the 
horse, Grayson," said George, the elder of the 
two sons, "I'll answer for that: but " 

"That I can do very easily," interrupted the 
11 



242 WESTERN CIIAKACTEKS. 

young liusband, "I have the proof in my 
pocket." 

He caught Elwood's eye as he spoke, and re- 
assured him with a look, for he could see that 
the old man began to apprehend an exposure in 
the presence of his sons. This forbearance did 
more to reconcile him to his discomfiture than 
aught else, save the influence of George ; for, 
like all passionate men, he was easily swayed 
by his cooler children. While Hannah and her 
brothers examined the marriage certificate, and 
laughed over " the stratagem," Grayson drew 
Elwood aside and exhibited a paper, written in 
a cramped, uneven hand, as follows : — 

" This is to certify, that it was not Josiah 
Grayson who took Kobert Elwood's horse from 
his stable, last night — but I took him myself, 
by arrangement, so as to accuse Grayson of the 
theft, and drive him to leave his new farm. 

" Thomas Dkiscol." 

Elwood blushed as he came to the words " by 
arrangement," but read on witliout speaking. 
Grayson then related the manner in which he 
had entrapped the lieutenant, and the joke soon 
put him in a good humor. The regulators were 
called in, and heard the explanation, and all 
laughing heartily over the capture of Driscol, 
they insisted that Hannah and her husband 



TUE REGULATOR. 243 

should mount, and ride with them to Ehvood's. 
Neither ot* them needed mucli persuasion — the 
whole party rode away together — the "lads 
and lasses" of the neighborhood were sum- 
moned, and the day and night were spent in 
merriment and dancing. 

Grayson and his wife returned on the follow- 
ing morning to their new home, where a life of 
steady and honorable industry, was rewarded 
with affluence and content. Their descendants 
still live upon the place, one of the most beau- 
tiful and extensive farms upon that fertile 
prairie. But on the spot where the disputed 
cabin stood, has since been built a handsome 
brick-house, and I pay only a just tribute to 
amiable character, when I say that a more hos- 
pitable mansion is not to be found in the western 
country. 

This was the last attempt at " regulating" in 
that region, for emigration came in so rapidly, 
that the supremacy of the law was soon asserted 
and maintained. Whenever this came to be so, 
the regulators, of course, ceased to be types of 
the state of society, and were succeeded by 
other characters and institutions. 

To these we must now proceed. 



24:4: WESTERN CHAKAOTEES. 

[Note. — The following is a copy of a compact, such as is 
spoken of in the story of the " The Fh'st Grave," entered into 
by a company of regulators in somewhat similar circumstances. 
I am not sure that I can vouch for its authenticity, but all who 
are familiar with the history of those times, will recognise, ia 
its peculiarities, the characteristics of the people who then in- 
habited this country. The affectation of legal form in such a 
document as this, would be rather amusing, were it not quite 
too significant ; at all events, it is entirely " in keeping" with 
the constitution of a race who had some regard for law and its 
vindicati on, even in their most high-handed acts. The technical 
phraseology, used so strangely, is easily traceable to the little 
"Justice's Form Book," which was then almost the only law 
document in the country ; and though the words are rather 
awkwardly combined, they no doubt gave solemnity to the act 
in the eyes of its sturdy signers : — 

" Know all men hy these presents : 

" That we [Aere follow twelve names\ citizens of • 



settlement, in the state of Illinois, have this day, jointly and 
severally^ bound ourselves together as a company of Rangers 
and Regulators, to protect this settlement against the crimes 
and misdemeanors of, all and singular, every person or persons 
whomsoever, and especially against all horse-thieves, renegades, 
and robbers. And we do by these presents, hereby bind our- 
selves, jointly and severally as aforesaid, unto each other, and 
to the fellow-citizens of this settlement, to punish, according to 
the code of his honor. Judge Lynch, all violations of the law, 
against the peace and dignity of the said people of ■ 

settlement ; and to discover and bring to speedy punishment, 
all illegal combinations — to rid the country of such as are 
dangerous to the welfare of this settlement — to preserve the 
peace, and generally to vindicate the law, within the settlement 
aforesaid. All of which purposes we are to accomplish as 



THE REGULATOR. 245 

peaceably as possible : hut we are to accomplish them one way 
or another. 

" In testimony whereof, we have hereunto set our hands and 
affixed our seals, this twelfUi day of October, Anno Doynini, 
eighteen liundred and twenty. 

(Signed by twelve men.) 
" Acknowledged and subscribed in the presence of 

"C T. H n, 

"J P. D n," 

and five others, who seem to have been a portion of " the fellow- 
citizens of this settlement," referred to in the document.] 



VI. 

THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 

" I beseech you, 
Wrest once the law to your authority : 
To do a great right, do a little v/rong," — 

Merchant of Venice. 

The reign of violence, when an evil at all, is 
an evil whicli remedies itself: the severity of 
its proceeding hastens the accomplishment 
of its ends, as the hottest fire soonest consumes 
its fuel. A nation will endure oppression more 
patiently immediately after a spasmodic re- 
bellion or a bloody revolution, than at any other 
time ; and a community requires less law to 
govern it, after a violent and illegal assertion of 
the law's supremacy, than was necessary before 
the outbreak. After having thrown off the 
yoke of a knave — and perhaps hung the knave 
up by the neck, or chopped his head off with 
an axe — mankind not unfrequently fall under 
the control of a fool ; frightened at their temerity 
in dethroning an idol of metal, they bow down 
before a paltry statue of wood. 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 247 

Men are not easily satiated with power, bnt 
wlien it is irregular, a pause in its exercise must 
eventually come. And there is a principle of 
human nature, which teaches, that whatsoever 
partakes of the mob-spirit is, at best, but tem- 
porary, and ought to have a speedy end. This 
is especially true of such men as first perma- 
nently peopled the western country ; for though 
they sometimes committed high-handed and 
unjustifiable acts, the moment it was discovered 
that they had accomplished the purposes of 
order, they allowed the means of vindication to 
fall into disuse. The regulator system, for ex- 
ample, was directed to the stern and thorough 
punishment of evil men, but no sooner was 
society freed from their depredations, than the 
well-meaning citizens withdrew from its ranks ; 
and, though regulator companies still patroled 
the country, and, for a time, assumed as much 
authority as ever, they were not supported by 
the solid approbation of those who alone could 
give them lasting strength. They did many 
outrageous things for which they were never 
punished, and for some years, the shield which 
the good citizen had raised above his head for 
protection and defence, threatened to fall upon 
and crush him. But the western people are not 
*Jie first who have been temporarily enslaved 



248 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

bj their liberators, tbongh, unlike many another 
race, thej waited patiently for the changes of 
years, and tin.e brought them a remedy. 

As the government waxed stronger, and 
public opinion assumed a direction, the regula- 
tors, like their predecessors, the rangers, found 
their " occupation gone," and gradually faded 
out from the land. Proclamations were issued 
— leorislatures met — laws we-e enacted, and 
officers appointed to execute them ; and though 
forcing a legal system upon a people who had 
so long been " a law unto themselves," was a 
slow and difficult process, it was powerfully 
assisted by the very disorders consequent upon 
their attempts at self-government. They had 
burnt their hands bv seizins^ the hot iron-rod of 
irregular authority, and were, therefore, better 
inclined to surrender the baton to those who 
could handle it. Like Frankenstein, they had 
created a power which they could not imme- 
diatelv control : the reorulators, from beino- their 
servants, had come to be their masters : and 
thev willint^lv admitted anv authority which 
promised deliverance. They had risen in wrath, 
and chastised, with no hesitating hand, the 
violators of their peace ; but the reaction had 
taken place, and tbey were now content to be 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 249 

governed by whatsoever ruler Providence might 
send them. 

Tlie state governments were established, then, 
without difficulty, and the officers of the new 
law pervaded every settlement. The character 
which I have selected as the best representative 
of this period, is one of these new officers— 
the early justice of the peace. 

So far as history or tradition informs us, there 
was never yet a country in which appointments 
to office were invariably made with reference 
only to qualification, and though the west is an 
exception to more than one general rule, in this 
respect we must set it down in the common cate- 
gory. The lawyer-period had not yet arrived ; 
and, probably, there was never an equal number 
of people in any civilized country, of whom a 
larger proportion were totally ignorant of legal 
forms. There were not three in each hundred 
who had ever seen the inside of a courthouse, 
and they were quite as few who had c nee looked 
upon a law-book ! Where such was the case, 
some principle of appointment was of course 
necessary, other than that which required fitness, 
by training, for tlie office conferred; and it is 
probable that the rule adopted. was but little 
different to that in force among those who have 
11* 



250 WESTEEN CIIAEACTEES. 

the appointing power, where no such circum- 
stances restrict the choice. 

Men were appointed conservators of the 
jpeace^ because thej had distinguished them- 
selves in war y and he who had assumed the 
powers of the law, as a reguhitor, was thought 
the better qualified to exercise them, as a legal 
officer! Courage and capacity, as an Indian- 
fighter, gave one the prominence requisite to 
his appointment ; and zeal for the preserva- 
tion of order, exliibited as a self-constituted 
judge and executioner, was a guaranty for 
the faithful performance of new and regular 
duties. 

Nor was the rule a bad one. A justice of 
the peace chosen upon this principle, possessed 
two qualities indispensable to an efficient offi- 
cer, in the times of which we write — he was 
prompt in the discharge of his duties, and was 
not afraid of responsibility. To obviate the 
danger, however, which might arise from these, 
he had also a rigid sense of justice, which usu- 
ally guided his determinations according to the 
rights of parties in interest. This, the iawj^ers 
will say, was a very questionable trait for a 
judicial officer ; and perhaps it is better for 
society, that a judge should know the law, and 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 251 

administer it without reference to abstract jus- 
tice, than that his own notions of right and 
wrong should be taken, howev^er conscientious- 
ly, as the standard of judgment: for in that 
case, we shall, at least, have uniformity of ad- 
judication ; whereas, nothing is more uncertain, 
than a man's convictions of right. 

But, in the times of which we are writing, 
society was not yet definitely shaped — its ele- 
ments were not bound together by the cohesive 
power of any legal cement — and no better 
rule was, therefore, to be expected, than the 
spontaneous suggestions of common sense. The 
minds of men were, moreover, habituated to a 
certain course of thought and action — (such as 
naturally obtains in a new state of society, 
where the absence of organization remits them 
to their own exertions for safety) — and it was, 
therefore, impossible that any artificial system 
should be at once adopted. The people had 
been accustomed to such primitive associations, 
as they had entered into " for the common de- 
fence and general welfiire" of their infant com- 
munities ; the rule of action had been swift, and 
sometimes very informal punishment, for every 
transgression ; and this rule, having very well 
answered its purpose, though at the expense 
of occasional severity and injustice, they could 



252 WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

not immediately understand the necessity for 
any other course of proceeding. 

One of the characteristics of the early jus- 
tice, then, was a supreme contempt for all mere 
form. He called it " nonsense" and could never 
comprehend its utility. To him, all ceremony 
was aifectation, and the refinements of legal 
proceeding were, in his estimation, anti-repub- 
lican innovations upon the oiiginal simplicity 
of mankind. Technicalities he considered mere- 
ly the complicated inventions of lawyers, to 
exhibit their perverse ingenuity — traps to 
catch the well-meaning or unwary, or avenues 
of escape for the guilty. The rules of evidence 
he neither understood nor cared for ; he desired 
" to hear all about" every cause brought before 
him ; and the idea of excluding testimony, in 
obedience to any rule, he would never enter- 
tain. He acted upon the j^rinciple — though 
he probably never heard of the maxim — that 
" the law furnishes a remedy for every wrong ;" 
and, if he knew of none in positive enactment, 
he would provide one, from the arsenal of his 
own sense of right. He never permitted any- 
thing to obstruct the punisliment of one whom 
he had adjudged guilty ; and, rather than allow 
a culprit to escape, he would order his judg- 



THE JTSTICE OF TITE PEACE. 253 

ment to be carried at once into effect, in 
the presence, and under the direction of the 
court. 

He had a strong prejudice against every man 
accused of crime ; and sometimes almost re- 
versed the ancient presumption of tlie law, and 
held the prisoner guilty, until lie proved him- 
self innocent. He had unbounded confidence 
in the honesty of his neighbors and friends, and 
was unwilling to believe, that they would ac- 
cuse a man of crime or misdemeanor, without 
very good cause. When it was proven that a 
crime had been committed^ he considered the 
guilt of the prisoner already half established : 
it was, in his judgment, what one, better ac- 
quainted with legal terms, might have called 
^^ 2i prima facia case," devolving the onus jpro- 
Ijandi (or burthen of proof) upon the accused. 
And this may have been one cause of the fre- 
quent resort to alihis — a mode of defence 
which, as we have already remarked, is even 
yet in great disrepute. If a defence, of some 
sort, was not, then, ver}^ clearly and satisfac- 
torily made out, the justice had no hesitation 
in entering judgment, and ordering immediate 
ptmishment ; for the right of appeal was not 
generally recognised, and the justice took origi- 
nal and final jurisdiction, where now his duties 



254 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

are merely those of preliminary examination 
and commitment. 

In civil controversies — wliere sncli causes 
were presented for adjudication, wliicli, how- 
ever, was not very often — the order of pro- 
ceeding was quite as summary. Tlie justice 
heard the statements of the parties, and some- 
times, not always, would listen to witnesses, 
also ; then, taking the general '' rights, inter- 
ests, claims, and demands," of both sides into 
consideration' — and viewing himself, not as a 
judicial officer, but as a sort of referee or arbi- 
trator — he would strike a balance between the 
disputants, and dismiss them to their homes, 
with a significant admonition to " keep the 
peace." He usually acted upon the principle 
— no very erronous one, either — that, when 
two respectable men resort to the law, as arbi- 
trater of their controversies, they are both about 
eqnally blameable ; and his judgments were 
accordingly based upon the corollar}^, that 
neither deserved to have all he claimed. This 
was the practice when any decision was made 
at all ; but, in most cases, the justice acted as 
a pacificator, and, by his authority and persua- 
sion, induced the parties to agree upon a com- 
promise. For this purpose, he not unfrequent- 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 255 

ly remitted botli fees and costs — those due to 
the constables, as well as his own. 

An instance of this pacific practice has been 
related to me as follows : Two neighbors had 
qnarrelled about a small anionnt of debt, and, 
after sundry attempts to " settle," finally went 
to law. The justice took them aside, on the day 
of trial, and j^roposed a basis of settlement, to 
which they agreed, on condition^ that all costs 
should be remitted, and to this the magistrate 
at once pledged himself. But a difficulty arose : 
the constable, who had not been consulted in 
the arrangement, had liad a long ride after the 
defendant, and having an unquestionable right 
to demand his fees, was unwilling to give them 
up. The justice endeavored to prevail with him 
by persuasion, but in vain. Finally, growing 
impatient of his obstinacy, he gave him a 
peremptory order to consent, and, on his refusal, 
fined' him the exact amount of his ^qq^ for con- 
tem2yt^ entered up judgment on the basis of the 
compromise, and adjourned the court! 

The man who thus discourages litigation at 
the expense of his own official emoluments, may 
be forgiven a few irregularities of proceeding, 
in consideration of the good he effects ; for 
although under such a system it was seldom 
that either party obtained his full and jnst 



256 WESTERN CIIAFvACTEES. 

rights, botli were always benefited by tlie spirit 
of peace infused into the comni unity. It 
would, perhaps, be well for the country now, 
w^ere our legal officers actuated by the same 
motives; unfortunately, however, such men 
belong only to primitive times. 

But the love of peace was not accompanied, 
in this character, as it usually is, by merciful 
judgment, for, as he was very swift in deter- 
mining a prisoner's guilt, he was equally rigid 
in imposing the penalty. The enactments of 
the criminal code were generally so worded as 
to give Some scope for the exercise of a com- 
passionate and enlightened discretion ; but when 
the decision lay in the breast of our justice, if 
he adjudged any punishment at all, it was 
usually the severest provided for by the statute. 
Half-measures were not adapted to the temper 
of the times or the character of the people ; 
indeed, they are suited to no people, and are 
signal failures at all times, in all circumstances. 
Inflicting light punishments is like firing blank 
cartridges at a mob, they only irritate, without 
subduing; and as the latter course usually ends 
in unnecessary bloodshed, the former invariably 
increases the amount of crime. 

CeTtainty of punishment may be — unques- 



THE JUSTICE OF TIIE PEACE. 257 

tioriably is — a very important element in the 
administration of justice, but as nothing so 
strongly disinclines a man to entering the water 
as the sight of another drowning, so nothing 
"will so effectually deter him from the commis- 
Bion of crime, as the knowledge that another 
has been severely punished for yielding to the 
same temptation. The justice, however, based 
the rigor of his judgments upon no such argu- 
ment of policy. His austerity was a part of 
his character, and had been rendered more 
severe by the circumstances in which he had 
lived — the audacity of law-breakers, and the 
necessity for harsh penalties, in order to pro- 
tection. 

It will be observed that I say nothing of 
juries, and speak of justices of the peace, as 
officers having authorit}^ to decide causes alone. 
And, it must be recollected, that in the days of 
which I am writing, resort was very seldom had 
to this cumbersome and uncertain mode of ad- 
judication. In civil causes, juries were seldom 
empanelled, because they were attended by very 
considerable expense and delay. The chief ob- 
ject, in going to law, moreover, was, in most 
cases, to have a decision of the matter in dis- 
pute ; and juries were as prone to " hang" then 



258 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

as now. Suitors generally, therefore, would 
rather submit to the arbitration of the justice, 
than take the risk of delay and uncertainty, 
with a jur}^ In criminal causes, the case was 
very similar : the accused would as lief be 
judged by one prejudiced man as by twelve ; 
for the same rigorous spirit which actuated the 
justice, pervaded also the juries ; and (besides 
the chance of timidity or favor in the justice) 
in the latter he must take the additional risks 
of personal enmity and relationship to the party 
injured. Thus, juries were often discarded in 
criminal causes also, and we think their disuse 
was no great sacrifice. Such a system can 
derive its utility, in this country, only from an 
enlightened public sentiment : if that sentiment 
be capricious and oppressive, as it too often is, 
juries are quite as likely to partake its vices as 
legal oificers : if the sentiment be just and 
healthy, no judicial officer dare be guilty of 
oppression. So that our fathers lost nothing in 
seldom resorting to this "palladium of our 
liberties," and, without doubt, gained some- 
thing by avoiding delay, uncertainty, and ex- 
pense. 

The reader will also observe, that I say 
jUothing of higher courts. But the lines be- 
tween the upper and lower tribunals were not 



THE JUSTICE OF TTTE TEACE. 259 

SO strictly drawn tlien as tlicy now arc, and the 
limits of jurisdiction were, consequently, very 
indefinite. Most of the characteristics, more- 
over, here ascribed to the justice of the peace, 
belonged, in almost an equal degree, to the 
judges of the circuit courts; and, though some 
of the latter were men of respectable legal re- 
quirements, the same off-hand mode of ad- 
ministering the law which distinguished the 
inferior magistrates, marked the proceedings of 
their courts also. Both occasionally assumed 
powers wdiicli they did not legally possess ; both 
Avere guided more by their own notions of jus- 
tice, than by the rules of law ; and both were 
remarkable for their severity npon all trans- 
gressors. Neither cared much for the rules of 
evidence, each was equal to any emergency or 
responsibility, and both had very exalted ideas 
of their own authority. 

But the functions of the justice were, in his 
estimation, especially important — his dignity 
was very considerable also, and his powers any- 
thing but circumscribed. A few well-authenti- 
cated anecdotes, however, will illustrate the 
character better than any elaborate portraiture. 
And, for fear those I am about to relate may 
seem exceptions, not fairly representing the 
class, I should state, in the ontset, that I have 



260 ^VESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

selected tliein fi-om a great niimber wliich T can 
recall, parlicnlarly because tliey are not excep- 
tive, and give a very just impression of tlie 
character wliicli I am endeavoring to portray. 

'Sqnire A v^-as a plain, honest farmer, 

who had distinguished himself as a pioneer and 
ranirer, and Avas remarkable as a man of un- 
doubted courage, but singularly peaceable tem- 
per. In the year eightei^n hundred and twenty, 
he received from Governor Bond of Illinois, a 
commission as justice of the peace, and though 
he was not very clear what his duties, dignities, 
and responsibilities, precisely were, like a patriot 
and a Roman, he determined to discharge them 
to the letter. At the period of his appointment, 
he was at feud with one of his neighbors about 
that most fruitful of all subjects of quarrel, a 
division-fenc^ ; and as such differences always 
are, the dispute had been waxing warmer for 
several months. He received his docket, blanks, 
and " Form-Book," on Saturday evening, and 
though he had as yet no suits to enter and no 
process to issue, was thns provided with all the 
weapons of justice. On the following Monday 
morning, he repaired, as usual, to his fields, 
about half-a-mile from home, and though full 
of his new dignity, went quietly to work. 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 261 

He had not been there long, before his old 
and only enemy made his appearance, and 
opened npon him a volley of abuse in relation 
to the division-fence, bestowing npon his honor, 
among other expressive titles, the euphonious 

epitliet of ''jackass." A bore the attack 

until it came to this point — which, it would 
seem, was as far as a man's patience ought to 
extend — and, it is probable, that had lie not 
been a legal function arj^, a battle would have 
ensued " then and there." But it wns beneath 
the dignity thus outraged, to avenge itself by a 

vulgar fisticuff, and A bethought him of a 

much better and more honorable course. He 
threw his coat across his arm, and marched 
home. There he took down his new docket, 
and upon the first page, recorded the case of 
the '^ People of the State of Illinois vs. John 
Braxton^'' (his enemy). He then entered up tlie 
following judgment: " The defendant in this 
case^ this day^ fined ten dollars and costs, for 
CONTEMPT OF COURT, he having called us a jacJc- 
ass r On the opposite page is an entry of 
satisfaction, by which it appears that he forth- 
with issued an execution upon the judgment, 
and collected the money ! 

This pretext of "contempt" was much in 
vogue, as a means of reaching offences not ex- 



262 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

presslj provided for by statute ; but the justice 
was never at a loss for expedients, even in cases 
entirely without precedent, as the following 
anecdote will illustrate : — 

A certain justice, in the same state of Illinois, 
was one day trying, for an aggravated assault, a 
man who was too much intoxicated fully to 
realize the import of the proceedings or the 
dignity of the court. He was continually in- 
terrupting witnesses, contradicting their testi- 
mony, and swearing at the justice. It soon 
became evident that he must be silenced or the 
trial adjourned. The justice's patience at length 
gave way. He ordered the constable to take 
the obstreperous culprit to a creek, which ran 
near the ofl&ce, " and duck him until he was 
sober enough to be quiet and respect the court !" 
This operation the constable alone could not 
perform, but in due time he brought the de- 
fendant back dripping from the creek and 
thoroughly sobered, reporting, at the same time, 
that he had availed himself of the assistance 

of two men, Messrs. B and L , in the 

execution of his honor's commands. The trial 
then went quietly on, tlie defendant was fined 
for a breach of the peace, and ordered to pay 
the costs: one item of which was two dollars 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 263 

to Messrs. B and L " for assisting tlie 

constable in ducking the prisoner !" But, as 
the justice could find no form nor precedent for 
hydropathic services, lie entered the charge as 
" witness fees^'' and required ininicdiato pay- 
ment ! The shivering culprit, glad to escape on 
any terms, paid the bill and vanished I 

Whatever might have been the prevailing 
opinion, as to the legality of such a proceeding, 
the ridicule attaching to it would cfTectually 
have i^rcvented any remedy — most men being 
willing to forgive a little irregularity, for the 
sake of substantial justice and "a good joke." 
But the summary course, adopted by these 
magistrates, sometimes worked even greater 
injustice — as might have been expected; and 
of this, the following is an example : — 

About the year eighteen hundred and twen- 
ty-six, there lived, in a certain part of the west, 
a man named Smedley, who, so far as the col- 
lection of debts was concerned, was entirely 
" law-proof." He seemed to have a constitu- 
tional indisposition to paying anything ho 
owed : and, though there were sundry execu- 
tions in the hands of officers against him — 
and though he even seemed thrifty enough in 
his pecuniary affairs — no property could ever 



264: WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

be fonncl, upon wliicli they could be levied. 
There was, at the same time, a constable in the 
neighborhood, a man named White, who was 
celebrated, in those days of difficult collections, 
for the shrewdness and success of his official 
exploits ; and the justice upon whom he usually 
attended, was equally remarkable, for the high 
hand with which he carried his authority. But, 
though two executions were placed in the 
hands of the former, upon judgments on the 
docket of the latter, months passed awa}^, with- 
out anything being realized from the impervi- 
ous defendant, Smedley. 

Whenever the constable found him in pos- 
session of property, and made a levy, it was 
proven to belong to some one else ; and the 
only result of his indefatigable efforts, was the 
additions of heavy costs to the already hopeless 
demand. 

At length, however, White learned that Smed- 
ley had traded horses with a man named Wyatt, 
and he straightway posted off to consult the 
magistrate. Between them, the plan of opera- 
tions was agreed upon. White levied first 
upon the horse then in the possession of Smed- 
ley, taking him under one of the two writs : he 
then levied the other execution upon the horse 
which Smedley had traded to Wyatt. The lat- 



THE JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 265 

ter, appreliending the loss of his property, 
claimed the first horse — that which he had 
traded to Sinedley. But, upon the " trial of the 
right of property," the justice decided that the 
horse was found in the possession of Smedley, 
and was, therefore, subject to levy and sale. 
He w^as accordingly sold, and the first judg- 
ment w^as satisfied. Wyatt then claimed the 
second horse — that which he had received 
from Smedley. But, upon a similar "trial" — 
after severely reprimanding AVyatt for claiming 
l)oth horses, when, on his own showing, he 
never owned but 07ie — the justice decided 
that the property in dispute had been in the 
possession of Smedley at the rendition of the 
judgment, and was therefore, like the other, 
subject to a lien, and equally liable to levy and 
sale ! And accordingly, this horse, also; was 
sold, to satisfj^ the second execution, and Wyatt 
was dismissed by the justice, with no gentle 
admonition, " to be careful in future with whom 
he swapped horses !" A piece of advice which 
he probably took, and for which he ought to 
have been duly grateful! Fallen humanity, 
however, is very perverse; and it is at least 
supposable, that, having lost his horse, he con- 
sidered himself hardly used — an opinion in 
which my legal readers will probably concur. 
V2. 



266 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

Eefore leaA-ing this part of my subject, I will 
relate another anecdote, w^liich, though it refers 
more particularly to constables, serves to illns- 
trute the characteristics of the early officers of 
the law — justices, as well as others : — 

The constable who figured so advantageously 
in the anecdote last related, had an execution 
against a man named Corson, who was almost 
as nearly "law proof " as Sraedley. He had 
been a long time endeavoring to realize some- 
thing, but without success. At length, he was 
informed, that Corson had sned another man, 
upon an account, before a justice in a distant 
part of the same county. This, the delinquent 
officer at once saw, gave him a chance to secure 
something; and, on the day of trial, away he 
posted to the justice's office. Here, he quietly 
seated himself, and watched the course of the 
proceeding. The trial went on, and, in due 
time, the justice decided the cause in favor of 
Corson. At this juncture, "White arose, and, 
while the justice was entering up judgment, 
approached the table. "When the docket was 
about to be laid aside, he interposed : — 

"Stop !" said he, placing his hand upon the 
docket, '-^ I levels on tliis judgment P'' And, 
giving no attention to remonstrances, he de- 
manded and obtained the execution. On this 



THE JUSTICE OF TKE PEACE. 267 

he collected the money, and at once applied it 
to that, which he had been so long carrying — 
tlins settling two controversies, by diligence 
and force of w^ll. He was certainly a valuable 
officer ! 

Thus irregular and informal were many of 
the proceedings of the primitive legal function- 
aries ; but a liberal view of their characters 
must bring us to the conclusion, that their in- 
fluence upon the progress of civilization of the 
country, was, on the whole, decidedly benefi- 
ciah 



VII. 

THE PEDDLEK. 

" This is a traveller, sir ; knows men and 
Manners." — Beaumont and Flktcheb. 

pREvioirs to the organization of civil govern- 
ment, and " the form and pressure" given to the 
times by this and its attendant circumstances, 
the primitive tastes and habits of the western 
people, excluded many of those artificial wants 
which are gratified by commerce, and afibrded 
no room for traders, excepting those who sold 
the absolute necessaries of life. 

In those days, housekeeping ^vas a very sim- 
ple matter. IS'either steam-engines nor patent 
cook-stoves were yet known, as necessary ad- 
juncts to a kitchen ; the housewife would have 
" turned up her nose" in contempt of a bake- 
oven : would have thrown a " Yankee reflector" 
over the fence, and branded the innovator wdth 
the old-fashioned gridiron. Tin Avas then sup- 
posed to be made only for cups and coffee-pots : 



THE PEDDLEE. 269 

pie-pans had not yet even entered " the land of 
dreams ;" and the tea-kettle, which then " sang 
songs of family glee," was a quaint, sqnat 
figure, resembling nothing so much as an over- 
fed duck, and poured forth its music from a 
crooked, quizzical spout, with a notch in its iron 
nozzle. If its shut-iron lid was ornamented 
with a brass button, for a handle, it was thought 
to be manufactured in superior • style ? Iron 
spoons were good enough for the daintiest 
mouth ; and a full set of pewter was a house- 
hold treasure. China dishes and silver plate 
had been heard of, but belonged to the same 
class of marvellous things, with Aladdin's lamp 
and Fortunatus's purse. Cooking was not yet 
reduced to a science, and eating was like sleep 
— a necessity, not a mere amusement. The 
only luxuries known, were coffee and sugar; 
and these, with domestics and other cotton 
fabrics, were the chief articles for which the 
products of the earth were bartered. 

French cloths and Parisian fashions were 
still less known than silver spoons and " rotary 
stoves." The men wore homemade jeans, cut 
after the mode of the forest: its dye a favorite 
'' Tennessean" brownish-yellow ; and the women 
were not ashamed to be seen in linsey-wolsey, 
woven in the same domestic loom. Knitting 



270 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

was then not only an accomplishment, but a 
useful art ; and the size which a " yarn" stock- 
ing gave to a pretty ankle, was not suffered to 
overbalance the consideration of its comfort. 
The verge of nakedness was not then the region 
of modesty : the neck and its adjacent parts 
were covered in preference to the hands ; and, 
in their barbarous ignorance, the women thought 
it more shame to appear in public half-dressed, 
than to wear a comfortable shoe. 

They were certainly a very primitive people — 
unrefined, unfashionable, "coarse" — and many 
of their sons and daughters are even now 
ashamed to think what " savages" tlieir parents 
were ! In their mode of life, they sought com- 
fort, not " appearances ;" and many things which 
their more sophisticated descendants deem 
necessaries, they contemned as luxuries. 

But, in the course of time, these things began 
to change, for simplicity is always " primitive," 
and the progress of refinement is only tlie mul- 
tiplication of wants. As the country was re- 
duced to cultivation, and peace settled upon its 
borders, new classes of emigrants began to take 
possession of the soil ; and, for the immediate 
purposes of rapid advancement, and especiallj^ 
♦f social improvement, they were better classes 



THE PEDDLEK, 271 

than tliclr predecessors: for, as the original 
pioneers liad always lived a little bej'ond the 
influences of regular civilization, these had re- 
mained within its limits until the 2)ressure of 
legal organization began to grow irksome to 
their partially untamed spirits. There was, in- 
deed, an unbroken gradatioaof character, from 
the nearl}^ savage hunter, who visited the 
country only because it w^as uninhabited, except 
by wild beasts, to the genuine Gitize7i, wdio 
brought with him order, and industry, and legal 
supremacy. 

The emigrants, of whom we are now writing, 
constituted the third step in this progression ; 
and they imported along with them, or drew 
after them, the peculiarities belonging to their 
owm degree of advancement. Their notions of 
comfort and modes of living, though still quite 
crude, indicated an appreciable stage of refine- 
ment. They were better supplied, for example, 
with cooking utensils — their household furni- 
ture was not so primitive — and in wearing ap- 
parel, they manifested some regard to elegance 
as well as comfort. Social intercourse dissemi- 
nated these ideas among those to whom they 
were novel ; where, previously, the highest 
motive to improvement had been a desire for 
convenience, the idea of gentility began to 



272 WESTEr^N CHARACTERS. 

claim an influence ; and some of the more 
moderate embellishments of life assumed the 
place of the mere necessaries. 

The transition was not rapid nor violent, like 
all permanent changes, it was the work of 
jears, marked by comparatively slow grada- 
tions. First, tin-ware, of various descriptions, 
became necessary to the operations of the 
kitchen; and that which had been confined to 
one or two articles, was now multiplied into 
many forms. A housewife could no more bake 
a pie without a " scalloped" pie-pan, than with- 
out a fire : a tin-bucket was much more easily 
handled than one of cedar or oak ; and a pepper- 
box, of the same material, was as indispensable 
as a salt-cellar. A little tea was occasionally 
added to the ancient regimen of coflfee, and 
thus a tin-canister became necessary for the 
preservation of the precious drug. With tea 
came queensware : and half-a-dozen cups and 
saucers, usually of a dingy white, with a raised 
blue edge, were needful for the pranking of the 
little cupboard. 

But it was not only in the victualing department 
that the progress of refinement could be traced ; 
for the thrifty housewife, who thought it proper 
to adorn her table, and equip her kitchen with 



THE PEDDLER. 273 

all the lute improvements, could not, of course, 
entirely overlook "the fashions :" the decoration 
of her person lias been, in all ages, the just and 
honest pride of woman. Linsey-wolsey began 
to give place to calicoes and many-colored 
prints ; calf-skin shoes were antiquated by the 
use of kid ; and ribands fluttered gracefully 
upon new-fashioned bonnets. Progress of this 
kind never takes a step backward : once pos- 
sessed of an improvement in personal comfort, 
convenience, or adornment, man — or woman 
— seldom gives it up. Thus, these things, once 
used, thenceforth became wants, whose gratifi- 
cation was not to be foregone : and it is one of 
the principles governing commerce, that the 
demand draws to it the supply. 

There were few " country stores," in those 
days, and the settlements were so scattered as 
to make it sometimes very inconvenient to visit 
them. From ten to twenty miles was a moder- 
ate distance to the depot of supplies; and a 
whole day was usually consumed in going and 
returning. The visits were, therefore, not very 
frequent — the purchases for many weeks — 
perhaps months — being made on each occa- 
sion. This was a very inconvenient mode of 
" shopping," even for tlie energetic women of 
that day ; and, since the population would not 
12^ 



274 WESTEEN CHARACTERS. 

justify more numerous "stores," it was desira- 
ble tluit some new system should be introduced, 
capable of supplying the demand at the cost of 
less trouble, and fewer miles of travel. To 
answer tliis necessity there w^as but one way — 
the " storekeeper" must carry his wares to the 
doors of his customers. And thus arose the 
occupation of the Peddler^ or, as he called 
himself, the " travelling merchant." 

The population of the country was then al- 
most exclusively agricultural — the mechanic 
arts belong to a more advanced period. The 
consequence was, that the first articles carried 
about from house to house, were such as are 
manufactured by artisans — and the chief of 
these was tin-ware. 

Tlie tinkers of the rural districts in older 
countries, were, however, not known in this — 
they were not adapted to the genius of the peo- 
ple. The men who sold the ware w^ere, scarcely 
ever, the same who made it ; and, though the 
manual dexterity of most of these ready men, 
might enable them to mend a broken pan, or a 
leaky cofi'eepot, their skill w^as seldom put in 
requisition. Besides, since the mending of an 
old article might interfere with the sale of a 
new one, inability to perform the office was 
more frequently assumed than felt. 



Tire PEDDLER. 275 

In tlie course of time — as the people of the 
country began to accjuire new ideas, and dis- 
cover new wants — other articles were added 
to the peddler's stock. Calicoes were often car- 
ried in the same box with tin pans — cotton 
checks and ginghams were stowed away be- 
neath tin-cups and iron-spoons — shining coffee- 
pots were crammed with spools of thread, 
papers of pins, cards of horn-buttons, and cakes 
of shaving-soap — ^and bolts of gaudy riband 
could be drawn from pepper-boxes and sausage- 
stuffers. Table-cloths, of cotton or brown linen, 
were displayed before admiring eyes, which 
had turned away from all the brightness of 
new tin plates ; and knives and forks, all " war- 
ranted pure steel," appealed to tastes, which 
nothing else could excite. New razors touched 
the men "in tender places," Tvhile shining 
scissors clipped the purses of the women. Silk 
handkerchiefs and " fancy" neckcloths — things 
till then unknown — could occupy the former, 
while the latter covetously turned over and ex- 
amined bright ribands and fresh cotton hose. 
The peddler was a master of the art of pleasing 
all tastes : even the children were not forgot- 
ten ; for til ere were whips and jew's-harps for 
the boys, and nice check aprons for the girls. 
(The taste for " playing mother" was as much 



276 WESTEJKN CHARACTERS. 

an instinct, with the female children of that 
day, as it is in times more modern; bnt life 
was yet too earnest to display it in the dressing 
and nursing of waxen babies.) To suit the 
people from whom the peddler's income was de- 
rived, he must consult at least the appearance 
of utility, in every article he offered ; for, 
though no man could do more, to coax the 
money out of one's pocket, without leaving an 
equivalent, even he could not succeed in such 
an enterprise, against the matter-of-fact pioneer. 

The '' travelling merchants" of this country 
were generally what their customers called 
"Yankees" — that is, I^ew-Englanders, or de- 
scendants of the puritans, whether born east 
of the Hudson or not. And, certainly, no class 
of men were ever better fitted for an occupa- 
tion, than w^ere those for "peddling." Tlie 
majority of them were young men, too; for the 
" Yankee" who lives beyond middle age, with- 
out providing snug quarters for the decline of 
life, is usually not even fit for a peddler. But, 
though often not advanced in years, they often 
exhibited qualities, which one would have ex- 
pected to find only in men of age and experi- 
ence. They could " calculate," with the most 
absolute certainty, what precise stage of ad- 



THE TEDDLER. 277 

vancement and cultivation, was necessary to 
tlic introduction of every article of mercliandiso 
their stock comprised. Up to a certain limit, 
they offered, for example, linen table-cloths : 
beyond that, cotton was better and more sale- 
able ; in certain settlements, they could sell 
numbers of the finer articles, whicli, in others, 
hung on their hands like lead ; and they seemed 
to know, the moment they breathed the air of 
a neighborhood, what precise character of goods 
"was most likely to pay." 

Thus — by way of illustration — it might 
seem, to one not experienced in reading the 
signs of progress, a matter of nice speculation 
and snbtle inquiry, to determine what exact 
degree of cultivation was necessary, to make 
profitable the trade in clocks. But I believe 
there is no instance of an unsuccessful clock- 
pedcller on record ; and, though this fact may 
be accounted for, superficially, by asserting 
that time is alike important to all men, and a 
measure of its course, therefore, always a want, 
a little reflection will convince us, that this ex- 
planation is more plausible than sound. 

It is, perhaps, beyond the capacity of any 
man, to judge unerringly, by observation, of 
the usual signs of progress, the exact point at 



278 WESTERN CIIAEACTERS. 

wliicli a comninnitv, or a man, lias arrived in 
the scale of cultiv^ation ; and it may seem es- 
pecially difficult, to determine commercially, 
wliat precise articles, of use or ornament, are 
adapted to the state indicated by those signs. 
But that there are such indications, which, if 
properly attended to, will be unfailing guides, 
is not to be denied. Thus, the quick observa- 
tion of a clock-peddler would detect among a 
community of primitive habits, the growing 
tendency to regularity of life ; for, as refine- 
ment advances, the common affairs of every- 
day existence, feeling the influence first, assume 
a degree of order and arrangement ; and from 
the display of this improvement, the trader 
might draw inferences favorable to his traffic. 
Eating, for examj)le, as he would perceive, is 
done at certain hours of the day — sleep is 
taken between fixed periods of the night and 
morning — especially, public worship — which 
is one of the best and surest signs of social ad- 
vancement — must be held at a time generally 
understood. 

The peddler might conclude, also, when he 
saw a glazed window in a house, that the owner 
was already p' ssessed of a clock — Avhich, per- 
haps, needed rejjairing — or, at least, was in 
great need of one, if he had not yet made the 



THE PEDDLER. 279 

purchase. One of these shrewd " calculators" 
once told me, that, when he saw a man with 
four panes of glass in his house, and no clock, 
he either sold him one straightway, or "set 
him down crazy, or a screw." 

" Have you no other ' signs of promise" ? I 
asked. 

" O yes," he replied, "many ! For instance: 
When I am riding past a house — (I always 
ride slowly) — I take a general and particular 
survey of the premises — or, as the military 
men say, I make a reconnaissance / and it must 
be a very bare place, indeed, if I can not see 
some ' sign,' by which to determine, whether 
the owner needs a clock. If I see the man, 
himself, I lot»k at his extremities; and by the 
appearance of hat and boot, I make up my 
opinion as to whether he knows the value of 
time : if he wears anything but a cap, I can 
pretty fairly calculate upon sulling him a clock ; 
and if, to the hat, he has added hoots^ I halt at 
once, and, without ceremony, carry a good 
one in. 

" When I see the wife, instead of the hus- 
band, I have no difficulty in making up my 
mind — though the signs about \\\q, women are 
so numerous and minute, that it would be liard 
to explain them. If one wears a check-apron 



280 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 

and sports a calico dress, I know that a * trav- 
elling merchant' has been in the neighbor- 
hood ; and if he has succeeded in making, a rea- 
sonable number of sales, I am certain that he 
has given her such a taste for buying, that I 
can sell her anything at all : for purchasing 
cheap goods, to a woman, is like sipping good 
liquijr, to a man — she soon acquires the appe- 
tite, and thenceforward it is insatiable. 

"I have some customers who have si passion 
for clocks. There is a man on this road, who 
has one for every room in his house ; and I 
have another with me now — with a portrait of 
General Jackson in the front — which I expect 
to add to his stock. There is a fanner not far 
from here, with whom I have ' traded' clocks 
every year since I first entered the neighbor- 
hood — always receiving about half the value 
of the article I sell, in money, 'to boot.' 
There are clock-fanciers, as well as fanciers of 
dogs and birds ; and I have known cases, in 
which a man would have two or three time- 
pieces in his house, and not a pair of shoes in 
the family ! But such customers are rare — as 
they ought to be ; and the larger part of our 
trade is carried on, with people who begin to 
feel the necessity of regularity — to whom tlie 
sun has ceased to be a sufficient guide ■ — and 



THE PEDDLEK. 281 

who liave acquired some notimis of elegance 
and comfort. And we seldom encounter the 
least trouble in determining, by the general ap- 
pearance of the place, whether the occupant has 
arrived at that sta£i:e of refinement." 

"We perceive that the principal study of the 
peddler is human nature ; and though he clas- 
sifies the principles of liis experience, more 
especially with reference to the profits of his 
trade, his rapid observation of minor traits and 
indications, is a talent which miglit be nseful in 
many pursuits, besides clock-peddling. And, 
accordingly, we discover that, even after he 
has abandoned the occnpation, and ceased to be 
a bird of passage, he never fails to turn his 
learnino' to a i^ood account. 

lie was distinguished by energy as w^ell as 
shrewdness, and an enterprising spirit was the 
first element of his prosperity. There was no 
corner — no secluded settlement — no out-of-tlie 
way place — where he' was not seen. Bad roads 
never deterred him : he could drive his horses and 
wagon where a four-wheeled vehicle never went 
before. He understood bearings and dit^tanccs 
as well as a topographical engineer, and ^\'ould 
go, whistling contentedly, across a prairie or 



282 WESTEEN CHAEACTEES. 

through a forest, where he had not even a 
" trail" to guide him. He could iind fords and 
crossings where none were previously known to 
exist ; and his pair of lean horses, by the skil- 
ful management of their driver, would carry 
him and his wares across sloughs and swamps, 
where a steam-engine would have been clogged 
by the weight of a baby-wagon. If he broke 
his harness or his vehicle in the wilderness, he 
could repair it without assistance, for his me- 
chanical accomplishments extended from the 
shoeing of a horse to the repair of a watch, and 
embraced everything between. He was never 
taken by surprise — accidents never came un- 
expected, and strange events never disconcerted 
him. He would whistle " Yankee Doodle" 
while his horses were floundering in a quag- 
mire, and sing " HailColumbia" while plunging 
into an unknown river ! 

He never met a stranger, for he was in- 
timately acquainted with a man as soon as he 
saw him. Introductions were useless ceremo- 
nies to him, for he cared nothing about names. 
He call a woman " ma'am" and a man "mister," 
and if he could sell either of them a few 
goods, he never troubled himself or them with 
impertinent inquiries* Sometimes he liad a 
habit of learning each man's name from his 



THE PEDDLEK. 283 

next neiglibor, and possessing an excellent 
memory, lie never lost the intbnnation thus 
acquired. 

When he had passed through a settlement 
once, he had a com]3lete knowledge of all its 
circumstances, history, and inhabitants ; and, 
the next year, if he met a child in the road, he 
could tell you whom it most resembled, and to 
what family it belonged. He recollected all 
who were sick on his last visit — what peculiar 
difficulties each was laboring under — and was 
always glad to hear of their convalescence. He 
gathered medicinal herbs along the road, and 
generously presented them to the housewives 
where he halted, and he understood perfectly 
the special properties of each. He possessed a 
great store of good advice, suited to every 
occasion, and distributed it with the disinterested 
benevolence of a philanthropist. He knew 
precisely what articles of merchandise were 
adapted to the taste of each customer ; and the 
comprehensive "rule of three" would not have 
enabled him to calculate more nicely the exact 
amount of " talk" necessary to convince them 
of the same. 

His address was extremely insinuating, for he 
always endeavored to say tlie most jigreeal le 
things, and no ma'.i could judge more accurately 



284 WESTEKN CIIARACTEES. 

wliat would best please the person addressed. 
He might be vain enough, but his egotism was 
never obtruded upon others. lie might secretly 
felicitate himself upon a successful trade, but 
he never boasted of it. He seemed to be far 
more interested in the affairs of others than in 
his own. He had sympathy for the afflictions 
of his customers, counsel for their difficulties, 
triumph in their success. 

Before the introduction of mails, he was the 
universal news-carrier, and could tell all about 
the movements of tlie whole world. He could 
gossip over his wares with his female customers, 
till he beguiled them into endless purchases, for 
he had heard of every deatlf, marriage, and 
birth within fifty miles. He recollected the 
precise piece of calico from wdiich Mrs. Jones 
bought her last new dress, and the identical 
bolt of riband from which Mrs. Smith trimmed 
her " Sunday bonnet." He knew whose children 
went to " meeting" in " store-shoes," whose 
daughter was beginning to wear long dresses, 
and whose wife wore cotton hose. He could 
ring the changes on the "latest fashions" as 
glibly as the skilfulest modiste. He was a 
connoisseur in colors, and learned in their 
effects upon complexion. He could laugh the 



THE PEDDLEK. 2S5 

Imsband into half-a-dozen shirts, flatter the wife 
into calico and gingham, and praise the children 
till both parents joined in dressing them anew 
from top to toe. 

He always sold his goods " at a ruinous 
sacrifice,'' but he seemed to have a depot of 
infinite extent and capacity, from which he 
annuall}^ drew new supplies. lie invariably 
left a neighborhood the loser by his visit, and 
the close of each season found him inconsolable 
for his " losses." But the next year he was sure 
to come back, risen, like the Phoenix, from his 
own ashes, and ready to be ruined again — in 
the same way. He could never resist the plead- 
ing look of a pretty woman, and if she "jewed" 
him twenty per cent, (though his profits were 
only two hundred), the tenderness of his heart 
compelled him to yield. AVhat wonder is it, 
then, if he was a prime favorite with all the 
women, or that his advent, to the children, made 
a day of jubilee ? 

But the peddler, like every other human 
"institution," only had "his day." The time 
Boon came when he was forced to give way 
before the march of newfangledness. The 
country grew densely populated, neighborhoods 
became thicker, and the smoke of one man's 



286 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

chimney could be seen from another's front- 
door. People's wants began to be permanent 
— the J were no longer content with transient 
or periodical supplies — they demanded some- 
thing more constant and regular. From this 
demand arose the little neighborhood " stores," 
establislied for each settlement at a central and 
convenient point — usually at " cross-roads," or 
next door to the blacksmith's shop — and these 
it was which superseded the peddler's trade. 

"We could wish to pause here, and, after de- 
scribing the little depot, "take an account of 
stock :" for no store, not even a sutler's, ever 
presented a more amusing or characteristic 
assortment. But since these modest establish- 
ments were generally the nuclei^ around which 
western towns were built, we must reserve our 
fire until we reach that subject. 

But the peddler had not acquired his experi- 
ence of life for nothing, he was not to be out- 
done, even by the more aristocratic stationary 
shop-keeper. When he found his trade de- 
clining, he cast about him for a good neighbor- 
hood, still uninvaded by the Lombards, and his 
extensive knowledge of the country soon enabled 
him to find one. Here he erected his own 



TEE PEDDLEB. 287 

cabin, and boldly entered the lists against his 
new competitors. If he could find no eligible 
point for such an establishment, or if he augured 
unfavorably of his success in the new walk, he 
was not cast down. If he could not "keep 
store," he could at least "keep tavern," an 
occupation for which his knowledge of the 
world and cosmopolitan habits, admirably fitted 
him. In this capacity, we shall have occasion 
to refer to him again ; and have now only to 
record, that in the progress of time, he grew 
rich, if not fat, and eventually died, " universally 
regretted." 



VIII. 



1 kaev ant ■ut, aad every trwaa 
* * * * 

Tet he «■■ kiad ; or, if aanati m 
The lone ke bore to v^«fMg «ae i 



Gc U J KJlf T H'S '^I>552rTSI> T t r «g ig ■ 



Ix the progress of eociety, the physical wanta^H 
are felt before the intellectna]. Men appre-^^ 
ciate the nece^tr for covering their backs and 
lining their stomachs before storing their minds, 
and they natnrally pri^vide a shelter fitim the 
storms of heaven. t»efore they seek « with other 
learning) a knowledge of the heavenly bodies. i 
Thus the rudest social system comprises some- ) 
thing of the mechanic arts — g«3vemment begins j 
to advance toward the dignity of a science — | 
commerce follows the establishment of legal 




t 



T H F. !?(MI <M. L ii V r^T f. K 



t 



THE SCIIOOLMASTEIJ. 289 

supremacy — and the education of the citizen 
conies directly after the recognition of his social 
and political rights. So, the justice of the 
peace (among other legal functionaries) indi- 
cates subjection, more or less complete, to the 
regulations of law ; the peddler represents the 
beginning of commercial interests ; and the 
schoolmaster succeeds him, in the natural order 
of things. 

It may be possible to preserve a high respect 
for a calling^ while we despise the men who 
exercise it: though I believe this is not one of 
the rules which " work both ways," and the con- 
verse is, therefore, not equally true. A man's 
occnpation affects Jmn more nearly than he 
does his occupation. A thousand contemptible 
men will not bring a respectable profession into 
so much disrepute, as a contemptible profession 
will a thousand respectable men. All the mili- 
tary talents, for example, of the commander-in- 
chief of our armies, w^ould not preserve him 
from contempt, should he set up a barber-shop, 
or drive a milk-cart: but the barber, or the 
milkman, might make a thousand blunders at 
the head of an army, should extravagant democ- 
racy elevate him to that position, and yet the 
rank of a general would be as desirable, because 
as honorable, as ever. 

13 



290 WESTERN CIIAKACTEES. 

It is certainly true, however, that the most 
exalted station may be degraded by filling it 
with a low or despicable incumbent, for the 
mental effort necessary to the abstraction of the 
employment from him w^ho pursues it, is one 
which most men do not take the trouble to 
make : an effort, indeed, which the majority of 
men are incajpable of making. A vicious priest 
degrades the priestly vocation — a hypocrite 
brings reproach upon the religious profession — 
a dishonest lawyer sinks the legal character 
— and even the bravest men care but little for 
promotion in an army, when cowardice and in- 
competency are rewarded with rank and power. 
But manifest incapacity, culpable neglect of 
duty, or even a positively vicious character, 
will not reduce a calling to contempt, or bring 
it into disrepute so soon, as any quality which 
excites ridicule. 

An awkward figure, a badly-shaped garment, 
or an ungainly manner, will sometimes out- 
weigh the acquirements of the finest scholar; 
and the cause of religion has suffered more, 
from the absence of the softer graces, in its 
clerical representations, than from all \\\q logic 
of its adversaries. A laugh is more efi*ectual 
to subvert an institution, tlian an argument — 
for it is o.'it^ier to make men ashamed, than to 



THE SCIIOOLMxlSTER. 291 

convince thctn. Trutli and reason are formida- 
able weapons, but ridicule is stronger than 
either — or botli. 

Thus : All thinking men will eagerly admit, 
that the profession of the schoolmaster is, not 
onlj respectable, but honorable, alike to the in- 
dividual, and to the community in which he 
pursues it : yet, rather than teach a school fur a 
livelihood, the large majority of the same men 
would " split rails" or cut cord-wood ! And this 
is not because teaching is laborious — though it 
is laborious, and thankless, too, beyond all 
other occupations ; but because a number and 
variety of causes, into whicli w^e need not in- 
quire, have combined to throw ridicule upon 
him, who is derisively called the pedagogue — 
for most men would rather be shot at, than 
laughed at. Cause and effect are always inter- 
reactive : and the refusal of the most compe- 
tent men, to " take up the birch" — which is 
the effect of this derision — has filled our 
school-rooms with men, who are, not unfairly, 
its victims. Thus the profession — (for such is 
its inherent dignity) — itself, has fallen into dis- 
credit — even thougli the judgment of men 
universally i^, th;it it is not only useful, but in- 
dispensable. 

ISTor is that judgment incorrect. For, though 



292 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

home-education may sometimes succeed, it is 
usually too fragmentary to be beneficial — pri- 
vate tutors are too often the slaves of their pu- 
pils, and can not enforce "attentioiu'' the first 
condition of advancement, where ti.v\ have not 
the paraphernalia of command — and, as for 
self-education, logically there can be no such 
thing : " one might as well attempt to lift him- 
self over the fence, by the straps of his boots," 
as to educate himself " witliout a master." 

The schoolmaster, then, is a useful member 
of society — not to be spared at any stage of its 
progress. But he is particularly necessary to 
communities which are in the transition state ; 
for, upon the enlightenment of the rising gener- 
ation depend the success and preservation of 
growing institutions. JSTor does his usefulness 
consist altogether — or even in a great measure 
— in the number of facts, sciences, or theories, 
with which he may store the minds of his pu- 
pils. These are not the objects of education, 
any more than a knowledge of the compart- 
ments in a printer's " letter-case," is the ulti- 
mate result of tlie art of printing. The types 
are so arranged, in order to enable the com- 
positors more conveniently to attain the ends, 
for which that arrangement is only a prepara- 



THE SCTIOOL:\rASTEK. 293 

tion : facts and sciences are tanght for the im- 
provement of tliu faculties, in order tliat they 
may work with more ease, force, and certainty, 
npon otlier and really important things; for 
education is only the marshalling of powers, 
preliminary to the great " battle of life." 

The mind of an uneducated man, however 
strong in itself, is like an army of undisciplined 
men — a crowd of chaotic, shapeless, and often 
misdirected elements. To' bring these into 
proper subjection — to enable him to bind 
them, with anything like their native force, to 
a given purpose — a prescribed "trainirg" is 
necessary ; and it is this which education sup- 
plies. If you can give a mind the hahit of at- 
tention,, all the power it has -will be made 
available : and it is through this faculty, that 
even dull minds are so frequently able to 
mount the car of triumph, and ride swiftly 
past so many, who are immeasurably their 
superiors. The first element of the discipline 
which develops this power, is submission to 
control ; and without such subordination, a 
school can not exist. Thus, the first lesson 
that children learn from the schoolmaster, is 
the most valuable acquisition they can make. 

But it was no easy task to teach this princi- 



294: WESTERN CIIAKACTEES. 

pie to the sturdy cliildren of tlie early "Western 
" settler ;" in this, as in all other things, the 
difficulty of the labor was in exact proportion 
to its necessity. The peculiarities of the peo- 
ple, and the state of the country, were not 
favorable to the establishment of the limited 
monarchy, requisite to successful teaching. In 
the first place, the parents very generally un- 
dervalued, what they called '' mere book-learn- 
ing." For themseives, they had found more 
use for a rifle than a pen ; and they naturally 
thought it a much more valuable accomplish- 
ment, to be able to scalp a squirrel with a 
bullet, at a hundred paces, than to read the 
natural history of the animal in the " picture- 
book." They were enthusiastic, also, upon the 
subject of independence; and, though they 
could control their children sternly enough at 
home, they were apt to look, with a jealous eye, 
upon any attempt to establish dominion else- 
where. The children partook largely of the 
free, wnld spirit of their fathers. They were 
very prompt to resist anything like encroach- 
ment upon their privileges or rights, and were, 
of course, pretty certain to consider even salu- 
tary control an attempt to assert a despotism. 
I believe history contains no record, wliatever 
the annals of fiction may display, of a boy, 



I 



TiiE ?cirDOT.:\rASTKR. 205 

with mncli spirit, submitting without a murmur 
to the authority of the schoolmaster : if such a 
prodigy of enlightened humility ever existed, 
he certainly did not live in the west. But a 
more important difficulty than either of these, 
was the almost entire want of money in the 
country ; and without this there was but little 
encouragement for the effort to overcome ptlier 
obstacles. Money may be onlj^ a rejyresentative 
of value, but its absence operates marvellously 
like the want of the value itself, and the primi- 
tive people of those days, and especially that 
class to which the schoolmaster belonged, had 
a habit, however illogical, of considering it a 
desirable commodity, jper se. 

All these impediments, however, could, in the 
course of time, be conquered : the country was 
improving in social tone ; parents must eventu- 
ally take some pride even in the accomplish- 
ments they despised ; and patience and gentle- 
ness, intermingled, now and then, with a little 
wholesome severity, will ultimately subdue the 
most stubborn spirit. As for the pecuniary 
difficulty, it was, as the political economists 
will tell us, only the absence of a medium at 
the worst: and, in its stead, the master could 
receive boarding, clothing, and the agricultural 
products of the country. So many barrels of 



296 WESTEKN CHA"RACTET?S. 

corn, or bushels of wheat, " per quarter," might 
not be so conveniently handled, but were quite 
as easy to be counted, as an equal number of 
dollars ; and this primitive mode of payment is 
even yet practised in many rural districts, per- 
haps, in both the east and west. To counter- 
balance its inconvenience of bulk, this " cur- 
rency" possessed a double advantage over the 
more refined "medium of exchange" now in 
use: it was not liable to counterfeits, and the 
bank from wdiicli it issued was certain not to 
" break." 

So the schoolmaster w^as not to be deterred 
from pursuing his honorable calling, even by 
the difficulties incident to half-organized com.mu- 
nities. Indeed, teacliing was the resort, at least 
temporary, of four fifths of the educated, and 
nearly an equal number of the uneducated 
young men, w^ho came to the west : for certainly 
that proportion of both classes arrived in the 
country, w^ithout money to suj^port, friends to 
encourage, or 2~>ride to deter them. 

They were almost all what western people 
call "Yankees" — born and bred east of the 
Hudson : descendants of tlie sturdy puritans — 
and distinguished by tlie peculiarities of that 
strongly-marked people, in personal appear- 



i 



THE SCHOOLMASTER. 297 

ancG, language, manners, and style and tone of 
tli(»nght. Like tlie peddlers, they were gene- 
rally on tlie sunny side of thirty, full of the 
hopeful energy which belongs to that period of 
life, and only submitting to ihe labors and 
privations of the present, because through those 
they looked to the future for better and brighter 
things. 

The causes which led to their emigration, 
were as many and as various as the adventurers 
whom they moved. They were, most of them, 
mere boys : young Whittingtons, whom the 
bells did 7iot ring back, to become lord-mayors ; 
who, indeed, had not even the limited posses- 
sions of that celebrated worthy ; and, thus des- 
titute, they wandered off, many hundreds of 
miles, " to see the world and make their for- 
tunes," at an age when the youth of the present 
day are just beginning to think of college. 
They brought neither money, letters of intro- 
duction, nor bills of exchange : they expected 
to find neither acquaintance nor relatives. But 
they knew — for it was one of the wise maxims 
of their unromantic fathers — that industry and 
honesty must soon gather friends, and that all 
other desirable things would speedily follow. 
They had great and just confidence in their own 
abilities to "get along;" and if they did not 
13* 



298 WESTEEN ClIAEACTEES. 

actua.llj tliink that the whole world belonged to 
them, the J were well-assured, that in an in- 
credibly short space of time, they would be 
able to possess a respectable portion of it. 

A genuine specimen of the class to which 
most of the early schoolmasters belonged, never 
felt any misgivings about his own success, and 
never hesitated to assume any position in life. 
IN'either pride nor modesty was ever suffered to 
interfere with his action. He would take charge 
of a numerous school, when he could do little 
more than write his own name, just as he would 
have undertaken to run a steamboat, or com- 
mand an army, wdien he had never studied 
eno^ineerins: or heard of stratearv. 'Nor would 
he have failed in either capacity : a week's ap- 
plication would make him master of a steam- 
engine, or a proficient (after i\\Q present manner 
of proficiency) in tactics ; and as for his school, 
he could himself learn at night what he was to 
teach others on the following day ! Nor was 
this mere "conceit" — though, in some otlier 
respects, that word, in its limited sense, was 
not inapplicable — neither was it altogether 
ignorant presumption ; for one of these men 
was seldom known to fail in anytliing he under- 
took : or, if he did fail, he was never found to 



THE SCHOOLMASTER. 299 

be cast down by defeat, and tlie resiliency of 
his nature justified liis confidence. 

The pursuit of a certain avocation, for a long 
period, is apt to warp one's nature to its in- 
equalities ; and as the character gradually 
assumes the peculiar shape, the personal ap- 
pearance changes in a corresponding direction 
and degree. Thus, the blacksmith, becomes 
brawny, square, and sturdy, and the character- 
istic swing of his arm gives tone to his whole 
bearing: the silversmith acquires a peering, 
cunning look, as if he were alwa3^s examining 
delicate machinery: the physician becomes 
solemn, stately, pompous, and mysterious, and 
speaks like " Sir Oracle," as if he were eternally 
administering a bread-pill, or enjoining a regi- 
men of drugs and starvation : the lawyer 
assumes a keen, alert, suspicious manner, as if 
he were constantly in pursuit of a latent per- 
jury, or feared that his adversary might discover 
a flaw in his " case :" and so on, throughout the 
catalogue of human avocations. But, among 
all these, that which marks its votaries most 
clearly, is school-teaching. 

There seems to be a sort of antagonism 
between this employment and all manner of 
neatness, and the circle of the schoolmaster's 



300 WESTERN CIIAKACTERS. 

female acquaintance never included the Graces. 
Attention to personal decoration is nsnally, 
tliougli not universally, in an inverse ratio 
to mental garniture ; and an artisticallj-tied 
cravat seems inconsistent with the supposition 
of a well-stored head above it. A mind which 
is directed toward the evolution of its own 
powers, has but little time to waste in adorning 
the body ; and a fashionable costume would 
appear to cramp the intellect, as did the iron- 
vessel the ffenius of the Arabian tale. Althou o^h, 
therefore, there are numerous exceptions — per- 
sons whose externals are as elegant as their 
pursuits are intellectual — men of assiduously- 
cultivated minds are apt to be careless of ap- 
pearances, and the principle applies, with espe- 
cial force, to those whose business it is to develop 
the minds of others. 

Nor was the schoolmaster of early days in 
the west, an exception to the rule. He might 
not be as learned, nor as purely intellectual, as 
some of our modern college-professors, but he 
was as ungraceful, and as awkwardly clad, as 
the most slovenly of them all. Indeed, he came 
of a stock which has never been noted for any 
of the lighter accomplishments, or '' carnal 
graces ;" for at no period of its eventful history, 
has the puritan type been a remarkable elegant 



THE SCTTOOLMASTER. 301 

one. The men so named have been better 
known for bravery than taste, for zeal tlian 
polish; and since tliere is always a corre- 
spondence between habits of thought and feeling 
and the external appearance, the physique of 
the race is more remarkable for rioror of muscle 
and angularity of outline, than for accuracy of 
proportion or smoothness of finish. ^N^either 
Apollo nor Adonis was in any way related to 
the family ; and if either had been, the proba- 
bility is that his kindred would have disowned 
him. 

Properly to represent his lineage, therefore, 
the schoolmaster could be neither dandy nor 
dancing-master; and, as if to hold him to his 
integrity, nature had omitted to give him any 
temptation, in his own person, to assume either 
of these respectable characters. The tailor that 
could shape a coat to fit his shoulders, never 
yet handled shears ; and he would have been as 
ill at ease, in a pair of fashionable pantaloons, 
as if they had been lined with chestnut-burrs. 
He was generally above the medium height, 
with a very decided stoop, as if in the liabit of 
carrying burthens; and a long, high nose, with 
light blue eyes, and coarse, uneven hair, of a 
faded weather-stain color, gave his face the 
expression answering to this lathy outline. 



302 WESTERN CnAr.ACTEES. 

TlioTigli never very slender, he was always thin : 
as if he had been flattened ont in a rolling-mill ; 
and rotundity of corporation was a mode of 
development not at all characteristic. His com- 
plexion was seldom florid, and not often de- 
cidedly pale ; a sort of sallow discoloration was 
its prevailing hue, like that which marks the 
countenance of a consumer of " coarse" whiskey 
and strong tobacco. But these failings were 
not the cause of his cadaverous look — for a 
faithful representative of the class held them 
both in commendable abhorrence — they were 
not the vices of his nature. 

There was a subdivision of the class, a sec- 
ondary type, not so often observed, but common 
enough to entitle it to a brief notice. He was, 
generall}^, short, square, and thick — the latitude 
bearing a better proportion to the longitude than 
in his lank brother — but never approaching 
anything like roundness. With this attractive 
figure, he had a complexion of decidedly bilious 
darkness, and what is commonly called a " dish- 
face." His nose was depressed between the 
eyes, an arrangement which dragged the point 
upward in the most cruel manner, but gave it 
an expression equally ludicrous and impertinent. 
A pair of small, round, black eyes, encompassed 



\ 



THE SCITOOLM ASTER. 303 

— like two little feiulal fortresses, eacli by its 
moat — with a circle of yelL>wisli wliite, peered 
out from under brows like battlements. Coarse, 
black hair, always cut short, and standing erect, 
80 as to present something the appearance of 
a chevaux de frise., protected a hard, round 
head — a shape most appropriate to his lineage 
— while, with equal propriety, ears of corre- 
sponding magnitude stood boldly forth to assert 
their claim to notice. 

Both these types were distinguished for large 
feet, which no boot could enclose, and hands 
broad beyond the compass of any glove. ^Neither 
was ever known to get drunk, to grow fat, to 
engage in a game of chance, or to lose his ap- 
petite : it became the teacher of '' ingenuous 
youth" to preserve an exemplary bearing before 
those whom he was endeavoring to benefit; 
wdiile respectable " appearances," and proper 
appreciation of the good things of life, were 
the alj^ha and omega of his system of morality. 

But the schoolmaster — and we now include 
both subdivisions of the class — was not deficient 
as an example in many other things, to all wlio 
wished to learn the true principles of living. 
Among other things, he was distinguished for 
a rigid, iron-bound economy : a characteristic 



304 WESTERN CITAEACTERS. 

wliicli it might have been well to impart to 
many of his pupils. But that which tlie discreet 
master denominated jprudi^nce^ the extravagant 
and wrong-headed scholar was inclined to term 
meanness : and historical truth compels us to 
admit, that the rigor of grim economy some- 
times wore an aspect of questionable austerity. 
^Notwithstanding this, however, when we reflect 
upon the scanty compensation afforded the 
benefactor of the rising generation, we can not 
severely blame his penurious tenacity any more 
than we can censure an empty wine-cask for not 
giving forth the nectar wliich we have never 
poured into it. If, accordingly, he was out at 
the elbows, we are bound to conclude that it 
was because he had not the money to buy a new 
coat ; and if he never indulged himself in any 
of the luxuries of life, it was, probabl}^ because 
the purchase of its necessaries had already 
brought him too near the bottom of his purse. 

He was always, moreover, " a close calcu- 
lator," and, with a wisdom worthy of all imita- 
tion, never mortgaged the future for the con- 
venience of the present. Indeed, this power 
of " calculation" was not only a talent 1)nt a 
passion : 3^011 would have tlionglit tliat liis ])ro- 
genitors had been arithmeticians since tlie time 
of Noah ! He could " figure up" any proposi- 



H 

THE SCHOOLMASTER. 305 

tion whatsoever: but lie was especially great 
upon the question, how much lie could save 
from his scanty salary, and yet live to the end 
of tlie year. 

In fact, it was only living that he cared for. 
The n&efal, with him, was always superior to 
the ornamental ; and whatever was not abso- 
lutely necessary, he considered wasteful and 
extiavagant. Even the profusion of western 
hospitality was, in his'eyes, a crime against the 
law of prudence, and he would as soon have 
forgiven a breach of good morals as a violation 
of this, his favorite rule. 

As might have been expected, he carried this 
principle with him into the schoolroom, and was 
very averse to teaching anytliing beyond what 
would certainly " pay." He rigidly eschewed 
embellishment, and adorned his pupils with no 
graceful accomplishments. It might be that he 
never tauo^ht anvthino^ above the useful branches 
of education, because he had never learned 
more himself; but it is certain that he would 
not have imparted merely polite learning, had 
his own trainiug enabled him to do so : for he 
had, constitutionnlly, a high contempt for all 
"flimsy" things, and, moreover, he was not em- 
ployed or paid to teach rhetoric or hellcs-Icttrcs^ 
and, " on j^rinciple," he never gave more in re- 



306 WESTEEN CHARACTERS. 

turn than the value of the money he re- 
ceiv^ed. 

With this reservation, his duties were always 
thoroughly performed, for neither by nature, 
education, nor lineage, was he likely to slight 
any recognised obligation. He devoted his time 
and talents to his school, as completely as if he 
had derived from it the income of a bishop ; and 
the iron constitution, of both body and mind, pe- 
culiar to his race, enabled him to endure a greater 
amount of continuous application than any other 
man. Indeed, his powers of endurance w^ere 
quite surprising, and the fibre of his mind was 
as tough as that of his body. Even upon a 
quality so valuable as this, however, he never 
prided himself; for, excepting the boast of race, 
which was historical and not unjustifiable, he 
liad no pride. He might be a little vain ; and, 
in what he said and did, more especially in its 
manner, there might occasionally be a shade of 
self-conceit : for he certainly entertained no 
mean opinion of himself. This might be a little 
obtrusive, too, at times ; for he had but slight 
veneration for men, or their feelings, or opinions ; 
and he would sometimes pronounce a judgment 
in a tone of superiority justly oftensive. But 
he possessed the uncommon virtue of sincerity : 
lie thoroughly believed in the ijifallibility of liis 



THE SCnOOLM ASTER. 307 

own conclusions ; and for tfiis tlic loftiness of 
Lis tone might be forgiven. 

The most important of the opinions thus ex- 
pressed, were upon religious subjects, for Jews, 
puritans, and Spaniards, have always been very 
decided controversialists. His theology was 
grim, solemn, and angular, and he was as 
combative as one of Cromwell's disputatious 
troopers. In his capacious pocket, he always 
carried a copy of the ^N'ew Testament — as, of 
old, the carnal controvertists bore a sword 
buckled to tlie side. Thus armed, he was a 
genuine polemical "swash-buckler," and would 
whip out his Testament, as the bravo did his 
weapon, to cut you in two without ceremony. 
He could carve you into numerous pieces, and 
season you with scriptural salt and pe])per ; and 
he would do it with a gusto so serious, that it 
would have been no unreasonable appi ehension 
tliat he intended to eat you afterward. And 
the value of his triumph was enhanced, too, 1)y 
the consideration that it was won by no mere- 
tricious graces or rlietorical flourislies ; for the 
ease of his gesticulation was such as you see in 
the arms of a windmill, and his enunciation was 
as nasal and monotonous as that of the Reverend 
Eleazer Poundtext, under whose ministrations 
he had been brought up in all godliness. 



308 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

But he possessed other accomplishments be- 
side those of tlie polemic. He was not, it is 
true, overloaded with the learning of " the 
schools" — was, in fact, quite ignorant of some 
of the branches of knowledge vvhfch he im- 
parted to his pnpils : yet this was never allowed 
to become apparent, for as we have intimated, 
he would fi-equentlj himself acquire, at niglit, 
the lessons which he was to teach on the 
morrow. But time was seldom wasted among 
the people from whom he sprang, and this want 
of preparation denoted that his leisure hours 
had been occupied in possessing himself of other 
acquirements. Among these, the most elegant, 
if not the most useful, was music, and his 
favorite instrument was the flute. 

In " David Copperfield," Dickens describes 
a certain flute-playing tutor, b}^ the name of 
Mell, concerning Avhom, and the rest of man- 
kind, he expresses the rash opinion, "after 
many years of reflection," that "nobody ever 
could have played worse." But Dickens never 
saw Strongfaith Lippincott, the schoolmaster, 
nor heard his lugubrious flute, and he therefore 
knows nothing of the superlative degree of de- 
testable playing. 

There are instruments upon which even an 
unskilful performer may make tolerable music, 



THE SCHOOLMASTER. 309 

"but the flute is not one of tlieiii — the man who 
murders that^ is a malefactor entitled to no 
" benefit of clergy :" and our schoolmaster did 
murder it in the most inhuman manner ! But, 
let it be said in mitigation of his offence, he had 
never received the benefit of any scientific 
teaching — he had not been "under the tuition 
of the celebrated Signor Wheeziana," nor had 
he profited by "the invaluable instructions of 
the unrivalled Bellowsblauer" — and it is very 
doubtful whether he would have gained much 
advantage from them, had he met the oppor- 
tunity. 

He knew that, in order to make a noise on 
the flute, or, indeed, anywhere else, it was 
necessary to hlow^ and blow he did, like Boreas ! 
He always carried the instrument in his pocket, 
and on being asked to play — a piece of polite- 
ness for which he always looked — he dre^^'♦it 
out with the solemnity of visage with wdiich a 
tender-hearted sheriff produces a death^varrant, 
and while he screwed the joints together, sighed 
blasts like a furnace. He usually deposited 
himself upon the door-sill — a favorite seat for 
him — and collecting the younger members of 
the family about him, thence poured forth his 
strains of concentrated mourn fulness. 

He invariably selected the most melancholy 



310 WESTERN CHAPwACTEES. 

times, playing, with a more profound solemnity, 
the gloomiest psalms and lamentations. When 
he ventured upon secular music, he never per- 
formed anytliing more lively than " The Misle- 
toe Bough," or "Barbara Allen," and into each 
he threw a spirit so much more dismal than the 
original, as almost to induce his hearers to 
imitate the example of the disconsolate " Bar- 
bara," and " turn their faces to the wall" in 
der^pair of being ever again able to muster a 
smile ! 

He was not a scientific musician, then — for- 
tunately for his usefulness — because thorough 
musicians are generally "good-for-nothing" 
else. But music was not a science among the 
pioneers, though the undertone of melancholy 
feeling, to which all sweet sounds appeal, was 
as easily reached in them as in any other people, 
llfieir wants in this, as in other things, were very 
easily satisfied — they wei'e susceptible of pleas- 
ure from anything which was in the least com- 
mendable : and not feeling obliged, by any 
captious canon, to condemn nine true notes, be- 
cause of the tenth false one, they allowed them- 
selves to enjoy the best music they could get, 
without thinking of the damage done their 
musical ainl critical reputation. 

But his flute was not the only means of 



THE SCIIOOL:\r ASTER. 311 

pleasing witliin tlie sclioolmaster's reach : for 
he could flatter as well as if the souls of ten 
courtiers had transmigrated into his single body. 
He might not do it quite so gracefully as one 
of these, nor with phrases so well-chosen, or so 
correctly pronounced, but what he said was 
always cunningly adapted to the character of 
the person wdiom he desired to move. lie had 
" a deal of candied courtesy," especially for the 
women ; and though his sturdy manhood and 
the excellent opinion of himself — both of wliich 
came to him from his ancestry — usuall}^ pre- 
served him from the charge of servility, he was 
sometimes a " cozener" whose conscience annoy- 
ed him with very few scruples. Occasionally 
he might be seen fawning u]Don the rich ; but it 
was not Avith him — as it usually is with the 
parasites of w^ealthy men — because he thought 
Dives more respectable, but more useful, on 
account of his money : the opulent possessed 
what the indigent wanted, and the shortest road 
to the goal of Cupidity, lay through the region 
of Yanity. Tliere was none of that servility 
which Mr. Carlyle has attempted to dignify with 
the name of " hero-worship," for the rich man 
was rather a bird to be plucked, than a " hero" 
to be worshipped. And though it may seem 
that I do the schoolmaster little honor by the 



312 WESTERN CIIARACTEES. 

distinction, I can not but tliink cupidity a more 
manl}^ trait than servility : the beast of prey a 
more respectable animal than the hound. 

But the schoolmaster's obsequiousness was 
more in manner than in inclination, and found 
its excuse in the dependence of his circum- 
stances. It has been immemorially the custom 
of tlie world, practically to undervalue his ser- 
vices, and in all time teaching and poverty have 
been inseparable companions. ITobody ever 
cared how poorly he was clad, how laborious 
his life, or how few his comforts ; and if he 
failed to attend to his own interests by all 
the arts in his power, no one, certainly, would 
perform the office for him. He was expected to 
make himself generally useful without being 
particular about his compensation : he was wil- 
ling to do the one, but was, very naturally, 
rather averse to the other : that winch justice 
would not give him, he managed to procure by 
stratagem. 

His manners thus acquired the characteristics 
we have enumerated, with also others. He was, 
for example, very officious ; a peculiarity which 
might, perhaps, be derived from his parentage, 
but which was never repressed by his occupa- 
tion. The desire to make himself agreeable, 
and his high opinion of his ability to do so, ren- 



THE SCHOOLMASTER. 313 

dered his tone and bearing very familiar; but 
this was, also, a trait which he shared with his 
race, and one which has contributed, as much 
as any other, to bring the people called 
" Yankees" into contempt in the west. The 
men of that section are not themselves reserved, 
and hate nothing more than ceremonious polite- 
ness : but they like to be the first to make ad- 
vances, and their demonstrations are all hearty, 
blunt, and open. They therefore disliked any- 
thing which has an insinuating tone, and the 
man who attempts to ingratiate himself with 
them, whether it be by elaborate arts or sidelong 
familiarity, at once arms them against them. 

The schoolmaster was inquisitive, also, and 
to that western men most decidedly object. 
They have little curiosity themselves, and seldom 
ask impertinent questions. When they do so, 
it is almost always for the purpose of insulting 
the man to whom they are put, and never to 
make themselves agreeable. The habit of ask- 
ing numerous questions was, therefore, apt to 
prejudice them against men whose characteris- 
tics might be, in other respects, very estimable ; 
and it must be acknowledged, that vulgar and 
obtrusive impertinence is an unfortunate accom- 
paniment to an introduction. But the school- 
master never meant to be impertinent, for he 
14 



314: WESTERN CHAKACTEES. 

was far from being quarrelsome (except with his 
scholars), and the idea that any one could be 
otherwise than pleased with his notice, however 
given, never entered his mind. Though his 
questions were, for the most part, asked to 
gratify a constitutional curiosity, he was ac- 
tuated in some degree, also, by the notion that 
his condescension would be acceptably inter- 
preted by those whom he thus favored. But, 
like many other benevolent men, who put force 
upon their inclinations for the benefit of their 
neighbors, he was mistaken in his " calculation ;" 
and where he considered himself a benefactor, 
he was by others pronounced a " bore." The 
fact is, he had some versatility, and, like most 
men of various powers, he was prone to think 
himself a much greater man than he really was. 
He was not peculiarly fitted to shine as a 
gallant " in hall or bower," but had he been the 
climax of knightly qualities, the very imper- 
sonation of beauty, grace, and accomplishment, 
he could not have been better adapted than, in 
his own estimation, he already was, to please 
the fancy of a lady. He was blissfully uncon- 
scious of every imperfection ; and displayed 
himself before what he thouccht the admirine: 
gaze of all dames and demoiselles^ as proudly 
as if he had been the all-accomplished victor in 



THE SCnoOLMASTER. 315 

some passage of arms. Yet lie carried himself, 
in outward appearance, as meekly as the hum- 
blest Christian, and took credit to himself ac- 
cordingly, lie seldom pressed his advantages 
to the utter subjugation of the sighing dames, 
but deported himself with commendable for- 
bearance toward the weak and defenceless whom 
his perfections had disarmed. He was as mer- 
ciful as he was irresistible : as considerate as he 
was beautiful. 

"What a saint of a knight is the knight of Saint Johul" 

Tlie personal advantages which he believed 
made him so dangerous to the peace of woman, 
were counteracted, thus, by his saintly piety. 
For — as it became him to be, both in the char- 
acter of a man, and in that of a descendant of 
the puritans — he was always habited in "the 
livery of heaven." Some ill-natured and sus- 
picious people, it is true, were inclined to call 
his exemplary " walk" hypocritical, and to stig- 
matise his pious " conversation" as cant. But 
the ungodly world has always persecuted the 
righteous, and the schoolmaster was correct in 
attributing their sneers to the rebuke which his 
example gave to their wickedness, and to make 
" capital" out of the " persecution." And wlio 
shall blame him — when in the weary intervals 



316 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

of a laborious and thankless profession, fatigue 
repressed enthusiasm — if he sometimes eked 
out the want of inspiration by a godly snuffle ? 
True piety reduces even the weapons of the 
scorner to the service of religion, and the citadel 
of the Gloomy Kingdom is bombarded with the 
artillery of Satan ! Thus, the nose, which is so 
serviceable in the production of the devilish and 
unchristian sneer, is elevated by a saintlike 
zeal, to the expression of a devout whine : and 
this I believe to be the only satisfactory explana- 
tion which has ever been given, of the con- 
nection, in so many good men, between the 
nasal and the religious I 

But the schoolmaster usually possessed gen- 
uine religious feeling, as well as a pious manner; 
and, excepting an occasional display of heredi- 
tary, and almost unconscious, cunning, he lived 
" a righteous and upright life." 

The process of becoming a respectable and 
respected citizen was a very short and simple one 
— and whether the schoolmaster designed to re- 
main only a lord of the ferrule, or casting the 
insignia of his office beliind him, to seek higher 
things, he was never slow in adopting it. 
Among his scholars, there were generally half- 



THE SCHOOLMASTER. 317 

a-dozen or more young women — marriageable 
daughters of substantial men ; and from this 
number he selected, courted, and espoused, some 
healthy, buxom girl, the heiress of a considera- 
ble plantation or a quantity of " wild land." 
He always sought tliese two requisites combined 
— for he was equally fond of a fine person and 
handsome estate. Upon the land, he generally 
managed to find an eligible town-site ; and, 
being a perfect master of the art of building 
cities on paper, and puffing them into celebrity, 
his sales of town-lots usually brought him a 
competent fortune. As years rolled on, his sub- 
stance increased with the improvement of the 
country — the rougher points of his character 
were gradually rubbed down — age and gray 
hairs thickened upon his brow — honors, troops 
of friends, and numerous children, gathered 
round him — and the close of his career found 
him respected in life and lamented in death. 
His memory is a monument of what honesty 
and industry, even without worldly advantages, 
may always accomplish. 

[Note. — A friend expresses a doubt whether I have not made 
the foregoing portrait too hard-featured for historical accuracy ; 
and, by way of fortifying his opinion, points to illustrious ex- 
amples of men who have taught schools in their youth — 
Benators and statesmen — some of whom now hold prominent 



318 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

positions before the people, even for the highest offices in their 
gift. But these men never belonged to the class which I have 
Attempted to portray. Arriving in this country in youth, 
without the means of subsistence — in many cases, long before 
they had acquired the professions which afterward made them 
famous — they resorted to school-teaching as a mere expedient 
for present support, without any intention to make it the occu- 
pation of their lives, or the means of their advancement. 
They were moved by an ambition which looked beyond it, and 
they invariably abandoned it so soon as they had prepared 
themselves for another pursuit. 

But the genuine character took it up as a permanent em- 
ployment — he looked to it not only as a means of temporary 
subsistence, but as a source, by some of the direct or indirect 
channels which we have indicated, of lasting income — and he 
never threw it up until he had already secured that to which 
the other class, when they abandoned the occupation, were still 
looking forward. In the warfare against Ignorance, therefore, 
these, whom we have described, were the regular army, while 
the exceptions were but volunteers for a limited period, and, 
in the muster-roll of permanent strength, they are, therefore, 
not included.] 




'I' II r: SCHOOL M [ ST k iisi 



IX. 

THE SCHOOLMISTKESS. 

"And yet I love thee not — thy brow 
Is but the sculptor's mould : 
It wants a shade, it wants a glow — 
It is less fair than cold." L E. L. 

But the family of the pioneer consisted of 
girls as well as boys ; and though the former 
were never so carefully educated as the latter, 
they were seldom allowed to go wholly un- 
taught. 

The more modern system, which separates 
the sexes while infants, and never suffers them 
to come together again until they are " mar- 
riageable," was not then introduced ; and we 
think it would have been no great misfortune 
to tlie country had it remained in Spain, whence 
it would seem to have been imported. Children 
of both sexes were intended to grow up together 
— to be educated in company — at least until 
they have readied the points where their paths 
naturally diverge, for thus only can they bo 



320 WESTKKN CIIAEACTEKS. 

most useful to eacli other, in tlie duties, trials, and 
struggles, of after life. The artificial refinement 
which teaches a little ghi that a boy is some- 
thing to be dreaded — a sort of begist of prey — • 
before she recognises any difference, save in 
dress, can never benefit her at best ; for by-and- 
by she will discover the falsehood : the very 
instincts of her nature would unveil it, did she 
learn it in no other way : and as action and re- 
action are equal, the rebound may cause her to 
entertain opinions altogether too favorable to 
those v/hom she has so foolishly been taught to 
fear. 

ISTor is the effect of such a system likely to 
be any better upon the other sex : for it is asso- 
ciation with females (as early as possible, too, 
all the better), which softens, humanizes, graces, 
and adorns the masculine character. The boy 
who has been denied such association — the in- 
cidents to Vv'hose education have made him shy, 
as so many are, even of little girls — is apt to 
grow uj) morose and selfish, ill-tempered, and 
worse mannered. "When the impulses of his 
developing nature finally force him into female 
society, he goes unprepared, and comes away 
without profit: his ease degenerates into famili- 
arity, his conversation is, at best, but washy 
sentimentalism, and the association, until the 



THE SCIIOOLMISTKESS. 321 

accumuUited rust of youtli is worn away, is of 
veiy doubtful beneiit to both parties. Indeed, 
parents who thus govern and educate their 
children, can find no justification for the prac- 
tice, until they can first so alter the course of 
Kature, as to establish the law, that each family 
shall be conq^osed altogether of girls, or shall 
consist exclusively of boys I 

But these modern refinements had not ob- 
tained currency, at the period of which we are 
writing ; nor was any such nonsense the motive 
to the introduction of female teachers. But 
one of the lessons learned by observation of the 
domestic circle, and particularly of the influ- 
ence of the mother over her children, was the 
principle, that a woman can teach males of a 
certain age quite as well as a man, m\d females 
much hetter ; and that, since the school-teacher 
stands, for the time in the place of the parent, 
a mistress was far moi'e desirable, especially for 
the girls, than a master. Hence, the latter liad 
exercised his vocation in the west, but a few 
years, before he was followed l)y the former. 

lN"ew England was the great nursery of this 
class, as it was of so many others, transplanted 
beyond the Alleganies. Emigration, and the 
14* 



322 WESTEEN CIIAEACTEES. 

enticements and casualties of a seafaring life — 
drawing the men into their appropriate chan- 
nels of enterprise and adventure, had there re- 
duced their number below that of the women — 
thus remitting many of the latter, to other than 
the usual and natural occupations of " the sex." 
Matrimony became a remote possibility to large 
numbers — attention to household matters gave 
place to various kinds of light labor ^ — and, since 
they were not likely to have progeny of their 
own to rear, many resorted to the teaching of 
children belonging to others. Idleness was a 
rare vice; and New England girls — to their 
honor be it spoken^- have seldom resembled 
" the lilies of the field," in aught, save the fair- 
ness of their complexions ! They have never 
displayed much squeamishness — about work : 
and if they could not benefit the rising genera- 
tion in a maternal, were walling to make them- 
selves useful in a tutorial capacity. The peo- 
ple of that enlightened section, have always 
possessed the learning necessary to appreciate, 
and the philanthropy implied in the w^ish to 
dispel, the benighted ignorance of all other 
quarters of the world ; and thus a competent 
number of them have ever been found willing 
to give up the comforts of home, for the benefit 
of the " barbarous west." 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 323 

The sclioolmistress, tlien, generally came from 
the "cradle" of intelligence, as well as "of lib- 
erty," beyond the Hudson ; and, in the true 
spirit of benevolence, she carried her blessings 
(herself the greatest) across the mountain bar- 
rier, to bestow them, gratis^ upon the spiritual- 
ly and materially need}^, in the valley of the 
Mississippi. Her vocation, or, as it w^ould now 
be called, her " mission" was to teach an im- 
pulse not only given by her education, but be- 
longing to her nature. She had a constitutional 
tendency toward it — indeed, a genius for it; 
like that which impels one to painting, another 
to sculpture — this to a learned profession, that 
to a mechanical trade. And so perfectly was 
she adapted to it, that " the ignorant people 
of the w^est" not recognising her " divine ap- 
pointment," were often at a loss to conjecture, 
who, or whether anybody, could have taught 
her ! 

For that same " ignorant," and too often, un- 
grateful people, she w^as full of tender pity — 
the yearning of the single-hearted missionary, 
for the welfare of his flock. They were steeped 
in darkness, but she carried the light — nay, she 
was the light! and with a benignity, often 
evinced by self-sacrifice — she poured it gra- 
ciously over the land — 



324 WESTERN CXiAKAClTiSS. 

"Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do: 
ISTot light them for themselves ; for if our virtues 
Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike 
As if we had them not." 

For the good of the race, or of any (male) in- 
dividual, she would immolate herself, even upon 
the altar of Hymen ; and, since the number, 
who were to be benefited by such self-devote- 
ment, was small in JSTew England, but large in 
the west, she did well to seek a field for her 
benign dedication, beyond the Alleganies ! 
Honor to the all-daring self-denial, which 
brought to the forlorn bachelor of the west, a 
companion in his labors, a solace in his afflic- 
tions, and a mother to his children ! 

Her name was invariably Grace, Charity, or 
Prudence ; and, if names had been always de- 
scriptive of the personal qualities of those who 
bore them, she would have been entitled to all 
three. 

In the early ages of the world, names were, 
or, at least, were supposed to be, fair exponents 
of the personal characters of those, upon whom 
they were bestowed. But, tJien^ the qualities 
must be manifested, before the name could be 
earned, so that all who had never distinguished 
themselves, in some way, were said to bo 



THE SCHOOLMISTEESS. S25 

"nameless." In more modern times, however, 
an improvement upon this system was intro- 
duced : the character was anticipated, and pa- 
rents called their children what they loished 
them to be, in the hope that they would grow 
to the standard thus imposed. And it is no 
doubt, true, that names thus bestowed had 
much influence in the development of charac- 
ter — on the same principle, upon which the 
boards, to which Indian w^omen lash tlieir infants 
soon after birth, have much to do with the erect 
carriage of the mature savage. Such an appel- 
lation is a perpetual memento of parental coun- 
sels — a substitute for barren precept — an end- 
less exhortation to Grace, Charity, or Prudejice. 
I do not mean, that calling a boy Cicero will 
certainly make him an orator, or that all Jere- 
miahs are necessarily prophets ; nor is it im- 
probable, that the same peculiarities in the 
parents, which dictate these expressive names, 
may direct the characters of the children, by 
controlling their education ; but it is unques- 
tionable, that the characteristics, and even the 
fortunes of the man, are frequently daguerreo- 
typed by a name given in infancy. There is 
not a little wisdom in the advice of Sterne to 
godfathers — not "to Nicodemus a man into 
nothing." — "Harsh names," says D'Israeli, the 



326 WESTERN CIIAEACTERS. 

elder, " will liave, in spite of all our pliilosopliy, 
a painful and ludicrous effect on our ears and 
our associations ; it is vexatious, that the soft- 
ness of delicious vowels, or the ruggedness of 
inexorable consonants, should at all be connect- 
ed with a man's happiness, or even have an in- 
fluence on his fortune." 

" That which we call a rose, 
Bj any other name would smell as sweet ;" 

but this does not touch the question, whether, 
if it had not smelt as sweet we would not have 
given it some other name. The celebrated 
demagogue, Wilkes, is reported to have said, 
that, "without knowing the comparative mer- 
its of the two poets, we would have no hesita- 
tion in preferring John Drjden to Elkanah Set- 
tle, /*r^??^ the names onlyP And the reason of 
this truth is to be found in the fact, that our 
impressions of both men and things depend upon 
associations, often beyond our penetration to de- 
tect — associations with which sounds depending 
on hidden laws, has quite as much to do, as sense. 

Among those who have carried the custom 
of picturesque or expressive naming, to an ex- 
tent bordering on the ridiculous, were the hard- 
headed champions of the true church-militant, 
the English puritans — as Hume, the bigoted 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 327 

old tory, rather ill-iiatnredly testifies ! And tlie 
puritans of Neio England — \vliatever advan- 
cing intelligence may have made them in the 
present — were, for a long time, faithful repre- 
sentatives of the oddities, as well as of the vir- 
tues, of their fathers. 

And, accordingly, we find the schoolmistress 
— being a descendent of the Jason's-crew, who 
landed from the Argo-May flower, usually bear- 
ing a name thus significant, and manifesting, 
even at her age, traits of character justifying 
the compellation. What that age precisely %cas^ 
could not always be known ; indeed, a lady's 
age is generally among indeterminate things ; 
and it has, very properlj^, come to be consid- 
ered ungallant, if not impertinent, to be curious 
nj^on so delicate a subject, A man has no more 
right to know how many years a woman has, 
than how many skirts she wears ; and, if he have 
any anxiety about the matter, in either case, 
his eyes must be the only questioners. The 
principle upon which the women themselves 
proceed, in growing old, seems to be parallel 
to the law of gravitation : when a storm, for 
example, is thrown into the air the higher it 
goes the slower it travels ; and the momentum 
toward Heaven, given to a woman at lier birth, 
appears to decrease in about the same ratio. 



328 WESTERN CUAEACTERS. 

We will not be so ungallant, then, as to in- 
quire too curiously into the age of the school- 
mistress; but, without disparagement to her 
youthfulness, we may be allowed to conjecture 
that, in order to fit her so well for the duties 
of her responsible station (and incline her to 
undertake such labors), a goodly number of 
years must needs have been required. Yet she 
bore time well ; for, unless married in the mean- 
while, at thirty, she was as youthful in man- 
ners, as at eighteen. 

But this is not surprising : for, even as early 
as her twelfth year, she had much the appear- 
ance of a mature woman — something like that 
noticed in young quakers, by Clarkson* — and 
her figure belonged to that rugged type, which 
is adapted to bear, unscathed, more than the 
ravages of time. She was never above the me- 
dium height, for the rigid rule of economy 
seemed to apply to flesh and blood, as to all 
other things pertaining to her race ; at all events, 
material had not been wasted in giving her ex- 
tra longitude — at the ends. Between the ex- 
tremities, it might be diff'erent — for she was 
generally very long-waisted. But this might 
be accounted for in the process of flattening 

* Author of the Life of William Penn, whose accuracy has 
lately been questioned. 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 329 

out: for like her compeer, the schoolmaster, 
she had much more breadth than thickness. 
She was somewhat angular, of course, and rath- 
er bony ; but this was only the natural corre- 
spondence, between the external development, 
and the mental and moral organization. Her 
eyes were usually blue, and, to speak with ac- 
curacy, a little cold and grayish, in their ex])res- 
sion — like the sky on a bleak morning in Au- 
tumn. Her forehead was very higli and prom- 
inent, having, indeed, an exposed look, like a 
shelterless knoll in an open prairie : but, not 
content with this, though the hair above it was 
often thin, she usually dragged the latter forci- 
bly back, as if to increase the altitude of the 
former, by extending the skin. Her mouth 
was of that class called "primped," but was 
filled with teeth of respectable dimensions. 

Her arms were long, and, indeed, a little 
skinny, and she swung them very freely when 
she walked ; while hands, of no insignificant 
size, dangled at the extremities, as if the joints 
of her wrists were insecure. She had large 
feet, too, and in walking her toes were assidu- 
ously turned out. She had, however, almost 
always one very great attraction — a fine, clear, 
healthy complexion — and the only blemishes 
upon this, that I have ever observed, were a 



830 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 



little red on the tip of her nose and on the points 
of her cheek-h 
lier upper lip. 



of her cheek-bones, and a good deal of down on 



In manners and bearing, she was brisk, prim, 
and sometimes a little '^fidgety," as if she was 
conscious of sitting on a dusty chair; and she 
had a way of searching nervously for her pocket, 
as if to find a handkerchief with which to brush 
it off. She was a very fast walker, and an 
equally rapid talker — taking usually very short 
steps, as if afraid of splitting economical skirts, 
but using very long words, as if entertaining no 
such apprehension about her throat. Her gait 
was too rapid to be graceful, and her voice too 
sharp to be musical; but she was quite un- 
conscious of these imperfections, especially of 
the latter : for at church — I beg pardon of her 
enlightened ancestors ! I should say at " meet- 
ing'^ — her notes of praise were heard high over 
all the tumult of primitive singing ; and, with 
her chin thrown out, and her shoulders drawn 
back, she looked, as well as sounded, the imper- 
sonation oim,elody^ as contra-distinguished from 
harmony I 

But postponing, for the present, our considera- 
tion of her qualifications as a teacher, we find 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 331 

that lier characteristics were still more respecta- 
ble and valuaLle as a private member of society. 
And in this relation, her most prominent trait, 
like that of her brother teacher, was her stain- 
less piety. In this respect, if in no other, 
women are always more sincere and single- 
hearted than men — perhaps because the dis- 
tribution of social duties gives her less temp- 
tation to hypocrisy — and even the worldly, 
strong-minded, and self-reliant daughter of the 
church-hating Puritan-Zion, displayed a ten- 
dency toward genuine religious feeling.* 

But in our subject, this was not a mere bias, 
but a constant, unflagging sentiment, an every- 
day manifestation. She was as warm in the 
cause of religion on one day as upon another, 
in small things as in great — as zealous in the 
repression of all unbecoming and ungodly levity, 
as in the eradication of positive vice. Life was 
too solemn a thing with her to admit of thought- 
less amusements — it was entirely a stato of 
probation, not to be enjoyed in itself, or for 
itself, but purgatorial, remedial, and prepara- 

* By this form of expression, wliich niny seem awkward, I 
mean to convey this idea : That consistency of character wouhl 
seem to preclude any heartfelt reverence in the descendant of 
those whose piety was manifested more in the hatred of earthly, 
than in the love of heavenly, things. 



332 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 

toiy. She liated all devices of pleasure as her 
ancestors did the abominations of popery. A 
fiddle she could tolerate only in the shape of a 
bass-viol ; and dancing, if practised at all, must 
be called " calisthenics." The drama was to 
her an invention of the Enemy of Souls — and 
if she ever saw a play, it must be at a museum^ 
and not within the walls of that temple of Baal, 
the theatre. JSTone but " serious" conversation 
was allowable, and a hearty langh was the ex- 
pression of a spirit ripe for -the destination of 
unforgiven sinners. 

Errors in religion were too tremendous to be 
tolerated for a moment, and the form (or rather 
anti-form) of worship handed down by her 
fathers, had cost too much blood and crime to 
be oppugned. She thought Barebones's the 
only godly parliament that ever sat, and did not 
hate Hume half so much for his infidelity, as 
for his ridicule of the roundheads. Her list of 
martyrs was made up of the intruders ousted 
by Charles's " Act of Conformity," and her 
catalogue of saints was headed by the witch- 
boilers of Massachusetts bay. She abhorred the 
memory of all j^opisJi persecutions, and knew 
no difi'erence between catholic and cannibal. 
Her running calendar of living saints were born 
" to inherit the earth," and heaven, too : they 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 333 

possessed a monopoly of all truth, an nnliniited 
"indulgence" to enforce conformity, and, in 
their zeal, an infallible safeguard against the 
commission of error. She had no patience with 
those who could not " see the truth ;" and he 
who reviled the puritan mode of worship, was 
" worse than the infidel." The only argument 
she ever used with such, was the argumentum 
ad hominem^ which saves the trouble of con- 
viction by " giving over to hardness of heart." 
Kew England was, to her, the land of Goshen 
— whither God's people had been led by God's 
hand — "the land of the patriarchs, where it 
rains righteousness""^ — and all the adjacent 
country was a land of Egyptian darkness. 

She was commendably prudent in her personal 
deportment: being thoroughly pure and cir- 
cumspect herself, she could forgive no thought- 
less imprudence in her sister-woman : but she 
well-understood metaphysical distinctions, and 
was tolerant, if not liberal, to marriageable men. 
These she could hope to reform at some future 
time : and she had, moreover, a just idea of the 
w^eakness of man's nature. But being a woman, 
and a staid and sober-minded woman, she could 

* The language of a precious pamphlet, even now in circula- 
tion in the west 



334 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

never understand the power of temptation upon 
her own sex, or the commonest impulses of high 
spirits. Perhaps she was a little deficient in 
charity : but, as we have seen, it was cliiefly 
toward her female friends, and since none can 
bear severe judgment more safely than woman, 
her austerity did little harm. 

But she sincerely regretted what she could 
never palliate ; she hated not the guilty, though 
she could not forgive the sin ; and no one was 
more easily melted to tears by the faults, and 
particularly by the follies, of the world. Wick- 
edness is a very melancholy thing, but it is to 
be punished as well as lamented : and like the 
unfortunate governor who was forced to con- 
demn his own son, she wept while she pro- 
nounced judgment. But earthly sorrow, by 
her, was given only to earthly faults : violations 
of simple good morals, crimes against heavenly 
creeds and forms (or rather the form) of worship, 
claimed no tear. Her blood rose to fever-heat 
at the mention of an unbeliever, and she would 
as soon have wept for the errors of the fallen 
angels, as for those of anti-Bobinsonians. 

But though thus rigid and austere, I never 
heard that she was at all disinclined to being 
courted : especially if it gave her any prospect 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 335 

of being able to make herself useful as a wife, 
either to herself, her husband, or her country. 
She understood the art of rearing and managing 
children, in her capacity as a teacher: she 
was thus peculiarly well-fitted for matrimonial 
duties, and was unwilling that the world should 
lose the benefit of her talents. But the man 
who courted her must do so in the most sober, 
staid, and regulated spirit, for it was seldom any 
unmixed romance about " love and nonsense," 
which moved lier to the sacrifice : if she enter- 
tained notions of that sort, they were such only 
as could find a place in her well-balanced mind, 
and, above all, were the subject of no raptures 
or transports of delight. If she indulged any 
enthusiasm, in view of the approaching change, 
it was in the prospect of endless shirt-making, 
and in calculations about how cheaply (not how 
happily) she could enable her husband to live. 
She had no squeamish delicacy about allowing 
the world to know the scope and meaning of 
her arrangements, and all her friends partici- 
pated in her visions of comfort and economy. 
False modesty was no part of her nature — and 
her sentiment could be reduced to an algebraic 
formula — excluding the " unknown quantities" 
usually represented by the letters ^, c^ and d: 
meaning " bliss," "cottages," and " devotion." 



336 WESTERN CHARACTEE3. 

Yet, though she cared little for poetry, and 
seldom understood the images of fancy, she was 
not averse to a modicum of scandal in moments 
of relaxation : for the faults of others were the 
illustrations of her prudent maxims, and the 
thoughtlessness of a sister was the best possible 
text for a moral homily. The tense rigidity of 
her character, too, sometimes required a little 
unbending, and she had, therefore, no s^Decial 
aversion to an occasional surreptitious novel. 
But this she would indulge only in private ; for 
in her mind, the worst quality of transgression 
was its bad example ; and she never failed, in 
public, to condemn all such things with be- 
coming and virtuous severity. 'Nor must this 
apparent inconsistency be construed to her dis- 
advantage ; for her strong mind and well-forti- 
fied morals, could withstand safely what would 
have corrupted a large majority of those around 
her ; and it was meet, that one whose " mission" 
it was to reform, should thoroughly understand 
the enemy against which she battled. And 
these things never unfavorably aifected her life 
and manner^, for she was as prudent in her de- 
portment (ill-natured people say prudish) as if 
some ancestress of hers had been deceived, and 
left in the family a tradition of man's perfidy 
and woman's frailty. 



THE SCHOULMISTKESS. 337 

She was careful, then, of thiee things — her 
clothes, her money, and her reputation : and, to 
do her justice, the last was as spotless as the 
first, and as much prized as the second, and that 
is saying a good deal, both for its purity and 
estimation. Neat, economical, and prudent, 
were, indeed, the three capital adjectives of her 
vocabulary, and to deserve them was her 
eleventh commandment. 

With one exception, these were the texts of 
all her homilies, and the exception was, un- 
luckily, one which admitted of much more 
argument. 

It was the history of the puritans. But uj^on 
this subject, she was as dexterous a special 
pleader as JSTeale, and as skilful, in giving a 
false coloring to facts, as D'Aubigne. But she 
had the advantage of these worthies in that her 
declamation was quite honest: she had been 
taught sincerely and heartily to believe all she 
asserted. She was of the opinion that but two 
respectable ships had been set afloat since the 
world began: one of which was ISToah's ark, 
and the other the Mayflower. She believed 
that no people had ever endured such persecu- 
tions as the puritans, and was especially eloquent 
upon the subject of " ISTew England's Blarney- 
Btone," the Rock of Plymouth. 
15 



338 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

Indeed, according to the creed of lier people, 
historical and religious, this is the only piece of 
granite in the whole world " worth speaking of;" 
and geologists have sadly wasted their time in 
travelling over the world in search of the records 
of creation, when a full epitome of everything 
deserving to be known, existed in so small a 
space ! All the other rocks of the earth sink 
into insignificance, and "hide their diminished 
heads," when compared to this mighty stone ! 
The Rock of Lencas, from which the amorous 
Lesbian maid cast herself disconsolate into the 
sea, is a mere pile of dirt : the Tarpeian, whence 
the Law went forth to the whole v\^orld for so 
many centuries, is not fit to be mentioned in the 
same day : the Rock of Cash el, itself, is but the 
subject of profane Milesian oaths ; and the 
Ledge of Plymouth is the real " Rock of Ages !" 
It is well that every people should have some- 
thing to adore, especially if that " something" 
belongs exclusively to themselves. It elevates 
their self-respect : and, for this object, even his- 
torical fictions may be forgiven. 

But, as we have intimated, in the course of 
time the schoolmistress became a married 
woman ; and as she gathered experience, she 
gradually learned that 'New England is not the 



THE SCnOOLMISTRESS. 339 

whole " moral vine^^ard," and that one might 
be more profitably emplo^^ed than in disputing 
about questionable points of history. Now 
duties devolved upon her, and new responsi- 
bilities rained fast. Instead of teaching the 
children of other people, she now raised chil- 
dren for other people to teach. New sources of 
pride were found in these, and in her liusband 
and his prosperity. She discovered that she 
could be religious without bigotry, modest 
without prudery, and economical without mean- 
ness : and, profiting by the lessons thus learned, 
she subsided into a true, faithful, and respectable 
matron, thus, at last, fulfilling her genuine 



X. 

THE POLITICIAN. 



'AH would be deemed, e'en from the cradle, fit 
To rule in politics as well as wit : 
The grave, the gay, the fopling, and the dunce, 
Start up (God bless us I) statesmen all at once I" 

Chukchill. 



In a country where the popular breath sways 
men to its purposes or caprices, as the wind 
bends the weeds in a meadow, statesmanship 
may become a system^ but can never rise to the 
dignity of a science ', and politics, instead of 
being an ay% is a series of arts. 

A system is order without principle : a science 
is order, based upon principle. Statesmanship 
has to do with generalities — with the relations 
of states, the exposition and preservation of con- 
stitutional provisions, and with fundamental 
organizations. Politics relates to measures, and 
the details of legislation. The art of governing 
is the accomplishment of the true politician : 



THB rOLITICIAN. 3-il 

the arts of governing are the trickeries of the 
demagogue. R'ujht is the key-note of one: 
jpoj^ularity of the other. 

The large majority of men are sufficiently 
candid to acknowledge — at least to themselves 
— that they are unfit for the station of lawgiver ; 
but the vanity and jealousy begotten by par- 
ticipation in political power, lead many of them, 
if not actually to believe, at all events to act 
npon the faith, that men, no more able than 
themselves, are the best material for rulers. It 
is a kind of compromise between their iii::>desty 
and self-love: not barthening them with the 
trials and responsibilities of positions for which 
they feel incompetent, but soothing their vanity 
by the contemplation of office-holders not at all 
their superiors. Below a certain (or nncertain) 
grade, therefore, political stations are usually 
filled by men of very moderate abilities : and 
their elevation is fiivored — indeed, often effect- 
ed — by the very causes which should prevent 
it. Such men are prone to thrust tliemselves 
upon public notice, and thus secure, by persist- 
ence and impudence, what might not be awarded 
them on the score of merit. 

It is a trite remark, that people are inclined 
to accept a man's estimate of himself, and to 



342 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

put liim in possession of that place, in tlieir con- 
sideration, which he has the hardiliood to claim. 
And the observation is just, to this extent: if 
the individual does not respect himself, probably 
no one else will take that trouble. But in a 
country where universal suffrage reigns, it may 
be doubted whether the elevation of an ordinary 
man indicates any recognition of tlie justice of 
his claims. On the contrary, they may be en- 
dorsed precisely because they are false : that is, 
because he really possesses no other title to the 
support of common men, than that which is 
founded upon fellow-feeling or sympathy of 
character. Many a man, therefore, who re- 
ceives his election as a compliment from the 
voters, if he understood the motives of their 
action, would throw up his office in disgust ; for 
in a large majority of cases, the popular choice, 
so far from being an assertion of the candidate's 
peculiar fitness to be singled out from among 
his bretliren, is only a declaration that neither 
talent nor character entitles him to the dis- 
tinction. The cry that a man is " one of the 
people," will bring him great strength at the 
ballot-box: but this is a phrase which means 
very different things, according as it is used by 
the candidate or the voter; and, in many cases, 
if they could thoroughly understand each other, 



THE roLrriciAX. 343 

the latter would not give his support, and the 
former would not ask it. 

These remarks are applicable to all stages of 
society's progress ; for, if the world were so en- 
lightened, that, in the scale of intellect, such a 
man as Daniel Webster could only be classed 
as an idiot, there would still be the "ignorant 
vulgar," the " uneducated classes." Society 
is one entire web — albeit woven with threads 
of wool and silk, of silver and gold : turn it as 
you will, it must all turn together ; and if a 
whirlwind of enlightenment should waft it to 
the skies, although each thread would be im- 
measurably above its present condition, the 
relation of one to another would still be the 
same. If the baser wool should be transmuted 
into gold, the very same process would refine 
and sublimate the precious metal, in a corre- 
sponding ratio ; and the equilibrium of God's 
appointed relations would remain undisturbed. 

But it is more especially in the primitive 
periods, before the great political truths be- 
come household words, and while the reign of 
law and municipal organization is a vague and 
distant thing, that most citizens shriidv from 
official duties. Diffidence, in this matter is, 



344 WESTERN CHAEACTERS. 

fortunately, a disease wliicli time will alleviate 
— a youthful weakness, which communities 
" outgrow,'^ as children do physical defects ; 
and, I believe, of late years, few offices have 
'' gone begging," either east or west of the great 
barrier of the Allegany. 

In the earlier periods of its history, we have 
seen that the western country was peculiarly 
situated. The settlements were weak and the 
population small ; with the exception of a few 
narrow fields, in the vicinity of each frontier 
fort, or stockade, the land was a wilderness, held 
in undisturbed possession by the savages and 
wild beasts. The great struggle, which we call 
the devolution, but which was, in fact, only a 
justifiable and successful rebellion, had ex- 
hausted the force and drained the cofi*ers of the 
feeble federal government ; had plunged the 
infant states into enormous debts ; and the only 
means of paying these were the boundless but 
unclaimed lands of the west, which the same 
causes rendered them unable to protect. The 
scattered settlements on the Mississippi side of 
the Alleganies, were thus left to their own 
scanty resources ; and the distance was so 
great, that, had the older states been able to 
afi"ord assistance, tlie delays and losses attendant 
upon its transmission across so wide a tract of 



THE POLIJICIAN. 345 

wilderness, would have made it almost nuga- 
tory. 

In those times, therefore, though a few were 
looking forward to separate political organiza- 
tion and the erection of new states, the larger 
number of the western people were too con- 
stantly occupied with their defence, to give 
much attention to internal politics. Such or- 
ganization as they had was military, or pa- 
triarchal: the early pioneer, who had dis- 
tinguished himself in the first explorations of 
the country, or by successfully leading and 
establishing a new settlement, as he became the 
commander of the local fort, was also tlie law- 
giver of the community. The pressure of ex- 
ternal danger was too close to allow a very 
liberal democracy in government ; and, as must 
be the case in all primitive assemblages of men, 
the counsels and commands of him whom they 
knew to be the most ahJe^ were always observed. 
He who had proven himself competent to lead 
was, therefore, the leader ipso facto and do 
jure ; and the evidence required was the per- 
formance of such exploits, and the display of 
such courage and sagacity, as were necessary 
to the defence, well-being, and protection of 
the community. 

It is obvious that no mere pretender could 
15* 



346 WESTERN CHAEACTEES. 

exhibit these proofs ; and that, where thej were 
taken as the sole measure of a man's worth, 
dexterity- with a rifle must be of more value 
than the accomplishments of a talker — Indian- 
fighting a more respectable occupation than 
speech-making. Small politicians were, there- 
fore, very small men, and saying that one had 
" a turn for politics," would have been equiva- 
lent to calling him a vagabond. The people 
had neither time nor patience to listen to decla- 
mation — the man who rose in a public assembly, 
and called upon his neighbors to follow him in 
avenging a wrong, made the only speech they 
cared to hear. "Preambles and resolutions" 
were unmeaning formalities — their "resolu- 
tions" were taken in their own minds, and, to 
use their own expressive words, they executed 
them " without preamble." An ounce of lead 
was worth more than a pound of advice : and, 
in the vindication of justice, a " charge" of gun- 
powder was more effectual than the most tedious 
judicial harangue. It is, even now, a proud, 
but well-founded boast, of western men, that 
these traits have been transmitted to them from 
their fathers — that they are more remarkable 
for fighting than for loranglhig^ for acting than 
for talking. 

In such a state of society, civil oflices existed 



TIITi: IMLITT^'TAN'. 347 

scarcely in name, and were never very eagerly 
sought. That which makes official station de- 
sirable is obedience to its authority, and if the 
title of " captain" gave the idea of more abso- 
lute power than that of " sheriff," one would 
rather command a company of militia than the 
^'l^osse comitatusP Besides, the men of the 
frontier were simple-hearted and unambitious, 
desiring nothing so much as to be "left alone," 
and willing to make a compact of forbearance 
with the whole world — excepting only the In- 
dians. They had never been accustomed to the 
restraints of municipal regulations, they w^ere 
innocent of the unhealthy pleasures of office- 
holding, or the degrading impulses of office- 
seeking. Their lives had given them little or no 
knowledge of these things ; experience had never 
suggested their importance, for their acquaint- 
ance with life was, almost exclusively, such as 
could be acquired in the woods and forest 
pathways. 

But as time rolled away, and the population, 
of the country became more dense — as the 
pressure of external danger was withdrawn, and 
the necessities of defence grew less urgent — ■ 
the rigor of military organization came gradu- 
ally to be somewhat irksome. The seeds of 
civil institutions began to germinate among the 



348 WESTEr.N CnA"RACTEE?;. 

people, wliile the extending interests of com- 
munities rerpii red corresponding enactments and 
regulations. The instincts of social beings, love 
of home and family, attachment to property, the 
desire of tranquillity, and, perhaps, a leaven of 
ambition for good estimation among neighbors, 
all combined to oj^en men's eyes to the import- 
ance of peaceful institutions. The day of the 
rifle and scalping-knife passed away, and justice 
without form — the rule of the elementary 
strong-hand — gave place to order and legal 
ceremony. 

Then first began to appear the class of poli- 
ticians, though, as yet, office-seeking had not 
become a trade, nor office-holding a regular 
means of livelihood. Politics had not acquired 
a place among the arts, nor had its professors 
become the teachers of the land. There were 
few, indeed, who sought to fill civil stations; 
and, although men's qualifications for office 
were, probably, not any more rigidly examined 
then than now, those who possessed the due 
degree of prominence, either deemed them- 
selves, or were believed by their fellow-citizens, 
peculiarly capable of discharging such functions. 
They were generally men who had made them- 
selves conspicuous or useful in other capacities 



THE POLTTICTAN. 849 

— who had become -well or favorably known to 
their neighbors through their zeal, courngc, 
sagacity, or public spirit. A leader of regula- 
tors, for example, whose administration of his 
dangerous 2:)owers had been marked by prompti- 
tude and severity, was expected to be equally 
efficient when clothed with more regular au- 
thority. A captain of rangers, whose enter- 
prises had been remarkable for certainty and 
finish^ would, it was believed, do quite as' good 
service, in the capacity of a civil officer. A 
daring pioneer, whose courage or presence of 
mind had saved himself and others from the 
dangers of the wilderness, was supposed to be 
an equally sure guide in the pathless ways of 
politics. Lawyers were yet few, and not of 
much repute, for they were, for the most part, 
youthful adventurers, who had come into the 
field long before the ripening of the harvest. 

There was another class, whose members held 
prominent positions, tliough they had never 
been distinguished for the possession of any of 
the qualifications above enumerated. These 
might be designated as the noisy sort — loud- 
talking, wise-looking men, self-constituted ora- 
cles and advice-givers, with a better opinion of 
their own wisdom than any one else was willing 



350 WESTERN CITA-RACTEKS. 

to endorse. Sucli men became "file-leaders," 
or " pivot-men," because the taciturn people of 
the west, though inclmed to undervalue a mere 
talker, were simple-minded enough to accept a 
man's valuation of his own powers : or easy- 
tempered enough to spare themselves the trouble 
of investigating so small a matter. It was of 
little consequence to them, whether the candi- 
date was as wise as he desired to be thought ; 
and smce, in political affairs, they knew of no 
interest which they could have in disputing it, 
for kis gratification they were willing to admit 
it. These were halcyon days for mere pre- 
tenders — though for no very flattering reason : 
since their claims were allowed chiefly because 
they were not deemed worth controverting. 
Those days, thanks to the " progress of intelli- 
gence !" are now gone by : the people are better 
acquainted with the natural history of such 
animals, and — witness, ye halls of Congress ! — 
none may now hold ofiice excej^t capable, pa- 
triotic, and disinterested men! 

Nor must we be understood to assert that the 
primitive politician was the reverse of all this, 
save in the matter of capability. And, even in 
that particular, no conception of his deficiency 
ever glimmered in his consciousness. Tlis own 
assumption, and the complaisance of his fellow- 



THE POLITICIAN. 351 

citizens, were inter-reactive, mutually cause 
and effect. They were willing to confirm liis 
valuation of his own talents : he was inclined to 
exalt himself in their good opinion. Parallel 
to this, also, was the oracular tone of his speech : 
the louder he talked, the more respectfully silent 
were his auditors ; and the more attentive they 
became, the noisier he grew. Submission always 
encourages oppression, and admiration adds 
fuel to the fire of vanity. IN^ot that the politi- 
cian was precisely a despot, even over men's 
opinions : the application of that name to him 
would have been as sore a wound to his self- 
respect as the imputation of horse-stealing. He 
was but an oracle of opinion, and though allowed 
to dictate in matters of thouglit as absolutely as 
if backed by brigades of soldiers, he was a 
sovereign whose power existed only through 
the consent of his subjects. 

In personal appearance, he was well-calcu- 
lated to retain the authority intrusted to him by 
such men. lie was, in fact, an e2:>itome of all 
the physical qualities which distinguislied the 
rugged people of the west : and between these 
and the moral and intellectual, tlicrc is an in- 
variable correspondence — as if tlie spirit within 
had moulded its material encasement to the 



S52 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

planes and angles of its own "form and pres- 



]N"ational form and feature are the external 
marks of national character, stamped more or 
less distinctly in different individuals, but, in 
the aggregate, perfectly correspondent and com- 
mensurate. The man, therefore, who possesses 
the national traits of character in their best de- 
velopment, will be, also, the most faithful repre- 
sentative of his race in physical characteristics. 
At some periods, there are whole classes of these 
types ; and if there be any one who embodies 
the character more perfectly than all others, the 
tranquillity of the age is not calculated to draw 
him forth. But in all times of trouble — of 
revolution or national ferment — the perfect 
Man-emblem is seen to rise, and (which is more 
to the purpose) is sure to stand at the head of 
his fellows : for he who best represents the cliar- 
acter of his followers, becomes, by God's ap- 
pointment, their leader. To this extent, the 
'COX populi is the vox Dei ; and the unf^iiling 
success of every such man, throughout his ap- 
pointed term, is the best possible justification 
of tlie choice. 

What was Washington, for example, but an 
epitome of the steady and noble qualities com- 



THE POLITICIAN. 353 

billed uf cavalier and puritan, wliieliwere then 
coalescing in the American character? And 
Avliat more perfect correspondence could be 
conceived between the moral and intellectual 
and the physical outlines? AYhat was Crom- 
well but the Englishman^ not only of his own 
time, but of all times ? And the testimony of 
all who saw him, what is it, but that a child, 
who looked upon him, could not fail to see, in 
his very lineaments, the great and terrible man 
he was? And Xapole<>n, was he aught but an 
abridgment of the French nation, the sublimate 
and "proof" essence of French character? 
l!^ot one, of all the great men of history, 
has possessed, so far as we know, a physical 
constitution more perfectly representing, even 
in its advancing grossness, both the strength 
and weakness of the people he led. 

In tranquil times, these things are not ob- 
served in one individual more than in others of 
his class, and we are, therefore, not prepared to 
decide whether, at such periods, the one man 
exists. The great Leviathan, the king of all tlio 
creatures of the ocean, rises to the surface only 
in the tumult of the storm ; his huge, portentous 
form, lies on the ftice of the troubled waters only 
when the currents are changed and the fountains 
of the deep are broken up. 



354: WESTEEN CHAEACTERS. 

IN'atiire does no superfluous work, and it may 
require the same causes wliicli produce the 
storm to organize its Kuler. If a great rebellion 
is boiling among men, the mingling of the ele- 
ments is projecting, also, the Great Rebel : if a 
national cause is to be asserted, the principles 
upon which it rests will first create its appro- 
priate Exponent. But when no such agitation 
is on the point of breaking out — when the 
crisis is not near, and the necessity for such 
greatness distant — national character probably 
retains its level ; and though there be no one 
whom the people will recognise as the arch-man, 
the representatives, losing in intensity what they 
gain in numbers, become a class. Thej^ fill the 
civil stations of the country, and are known as 
men of mark — their opinions are received, 
their advice accepted, their leading followed. 
Ko one of them is known instinctively, or 
trusted implicitly, as the leader of JN'ature's ap- 
pointment : yet they are, in fact, the exponents 
of their time and race, and in exact proportion 
to the degree in which they possess the char- 
acter, will they exhibit, also, the physical pecu- 
liarities. 

Thus it was at the time of which we are 
writing, with, tlie class to which belonged tlie 



THE POLTTTCTAN. 355 

politician, and a description of liis personal ap- 
pearance, like that of any other man, will con- 
vey no indistinct impression of liis internal 
character. 

Such a description probably combined more 
characteristic adjectives than that of any other 
personage of his time — adjectives, some of 
wliicli were applicable to many of his neigh- 
bors, respectively, but all of which might be 
bestowed npon him only. He was tall, gannt, 
angular, swarthy, active, and athletic. His hair 
was, invariabl}^, black as the wing of the raven ; 
even in that small portion which the cap of 
raccoon-skin left exposed to the action of sun 
and rain, the gray was but thinly scattered ; 
imparting to the monotonous daikness only a 
more iron character. As late as the present 
day, though we have changed in many things, 
light-haired men seldom attain eminence among 
the western people : many of our legislators are 
yoimg enough, but none of them are heardlesft. 
They have a bilious look, as if, in case of illness, 
their only hope would lie in calomel and jalap. 
One might understand, at the first glance, that 
they are men of talent^ not of gpniufi ; and that 
physical energy, the enduring vitality of the 
body, has no inconsiderable share in the power 
of the mind. 



356 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

Corresponrling to tlie sable of the hair, the 
politician's eye was usually small, and in- 
tensely black ^ — -not the dead, inexpressive jet, 
which gives the idea of a hole through white 
paper, or of a cavernous socket in a death's- 
head ; but the keen, midnight darkness, in whose 
depths you can see a twinkle of starlight — 
where you feel that there is meaning as well as 
color. There might be an expression of cunning 
along with that of penetration — but, in a much 
higher degree, the blaze of irascibility. There 
could be no doubt, from its glance, that its pos- 
sessor was an excellent hater; 3^ou might be 
assured that he would never forget an injury or 
betray a friend. 

A stoop in the shoulders indicated that, in 
times past, he had been in the habit of carrying 
a heavy rifle, and of closely examining the 
ground over which he walked ; but what the 
chest thus lost in depth it gained in breadth. 
His lungs had ample space in which to play — 
there was nothing pulmonary even in the droop- 
ing shoulders. Few of his class have ever lived 
to a very advanced age, but it was not for want 
of ironrconstitiitions, that they went early to 
the grave. The same services to his country, 
which gave the politician his prominence, also 
shortened his life. 



THE POLITICIAN. 357 

From shoulders tliiis bowed, Imug long, mus- 
cular arms — sometimes, perhaps, dangling a 
little ungracefully, but always under the com- 
mand of their owner, and ready for any efibrt", 
however violent. These were terminated by 
broad, bony hands, which looked like grapnels 
— their grasp, indeed, bore no faint resemblance 
to the hold of those symmetrical instruments. 
Large feet, whose toes were usually turned in, 
like those of the Indian, were wielded by limbs 
whose vigor and activity were in keeping with 
the figure they supported. Imagine, with these 
peculiarities, a free, bold, rather swaggering gait, 
a swarthy complexion, and conformable features 
and tones of voice: and — excepting his cos- 
tume — you have before your fancy a complete 
picture of the early western politician. 

But tlie item of costume is too important to 
be passed over with a mere allusion. As well 
might we paint a mountain without its verdant 
clothing, its waving plumes of pine and cedar, 
as the western man without his picturesque and 
characteristic habiliments. The first, and in- 
dispensable article of dress, was the national 
hunting-shirt : a garment whose easy fit was 
well-adapted, both to the character of his figure 
and the freedom of his movements. Its nature 
did not admit much change in fashion : the only 



358 WESTERN CHARACTEES. 

vai'iations of wliicli it was capable, were those 
of ornament and color. It miglit be fringed 
around the cape and skirt, or made plain ; it 
might be blue, or copper-colored — perhaps 
tinged with a little madder. And the variety 
of material was qnite as limited, since it must 
be of either jeans or deer skin. 

Corresponding to this, in material, style, and 
texture, he wore, also, a pair of wide pantaloons 
— not always of precisely the proper length for 
the limbs of the wearer, but having invariably 
a broad waistband, coming up close under the 
arms, and answering the purpose of the modern 
vest. People were not so dainty about " set" 
and " fit," in those days, as they have since be- 
come ; and these primitive integuments were 
equally well-adapted to the figure of any one to 
whose lot they might fall. In their production, 
no one had been concerned save the family of 
the wearer. The sheep which bore the wool, 
belonged to his own flock, and all the opera- 
tions, subsequent to the shearing, necessary to 
the ultimate result of shaping into a garment, 
had been performed by his wife or daughter. 
Many politicians have continued this affectation 
of plainness, even when the necessity has ceased, 
on account of its effect upon the masses ; for 
people are apt to entertain the notion, that de- 



THE POLITICIAN. 359 

cent clotliing is incompatible with mentiil 
ability, and that be who is most manifestly be- 
hind the improvements of the time, is best 
qualified for official stations. 

A neck-cloth, or cravat, was never seen about 
the politician's throat ; and for the same reason 
of expediency : for these were refinements of 
affectation which had not then been introduced ; 
and a man who thus compassed his neck, could 
no more have been elected to an office, than if 
he had worn the cap and bells of a Saxon jester. 
The shirt-bosoms of modern days were in the 
same category ; and starch was an article con- 
traband to the law of public sentiment — inso- 
much that no epithet expressed more thorough 
contempt for a man, than the graphic word 
" starched." A raccoon-skin cap — or, as a piece 
of extravagant finery, a white-wool hat — with 
a pair of heavy shoes, not unfrequently without 
the luxury of hose — or, if with them, made of 
blue-woollen yarn, from the back of a sheep 
of the aforesaid flock — completed the element 
of costume. 

He was not very extravagantly dressed, as 
the reader sees ; but we can say of him — what 
could not be as truly spoken of many men, or, 
indeed, of many women, of this day — that his 
clothing bore distinct reference to his character, 



360 V\'ESTERK CHARACTERS. 

and was well-adapted to Lis " style of beauty." 
Ill fact, everything about liim, form, face, man- 
ners, dress, was in " in keeping" with his char- 
acteristics. 

In occupation, he was usually a farmer ; for 
the materials of which popular tribunes are 
made in later times — such as law^^ers, gentle- 
men of leisure, and pugnacious preachers — 
were not then to be found. The population of 
the country was thoroughly agricultural ; and 
though (as I believe I have elsewhere observed) 
the rural people of the west w^ere neither a 
cheerful nor a polished race, as a class, they 
possess, even yet, qualities, which, culminating 
in an individual, eminently fit him for the role 
of a noisy popular leader. 

But a man who is merely fitted to such a 
position, is a very difi'erent animal to one quali- 
fied to give laws for the government of the 
citizen. After all our vain boasting, that public 
sentiment is the law of our Jand, there is really 
a very broad distinction between forming men's 
opinions and controlling their action. If the 
government had been so organized, that the 
pressure of popular feeling might make itself 
felt, directly, in the halls of legislation, our 
history, instead of being that of a great and ad- 



THE POLITICIAN. 361 

vaiiciiig nation, would have been only a chroni- 
cle of factious and unstable violence. It does 
not follo^^", that one who is qualified to lead 
voters at the polls, or, as they say here, " on 
the stump," will be able to embody, in enlight- 
ened enactments, the sentiment which he con- 
tributes to form, any more than that the tanner 
will be able to shape a well-fitting boot from the 
leather he prepares. '' Saum cuique jyrojyriicm 
dat Natiira domimP'^' A blacksmith, therefore, 
is not the best manufacturer of silver spoons, a 
lawyer the ablest writer of sermons, nor either 
of them necessarily the safest law-maker. 

But those things to which his qualifications 
were appropriate, the politician did thoroughly 
and well. For example, he was a skilful tanner 
— at least in the leading branches of that calling, 
thouo-h he cave little or no attention to the 
merely ornamental. For the latter, he had 
neither time nor inclination. Even in the es- 
sentials, it was only by working, as he expressed 
it, " to the best advantage," — that is, contriving 
to produce the largest amount of results with 
the least expenditure of labor and patience — 
that he got sufficient leisure to attend to his 
public duties; and as for "inclination," no 

* Translate " donum" talent. 

10 



362 WESTEEN" CHAKACTEES. 

quaker ever felt a more supreme .contempt for 
mere embellishment. 

He was seldom very liappy in his domestic 
relations ; for, excepting at those seasons when 
the exigencies of his calling required his con- 
stant attention, he spent but little of his time at 
his own fireside. He absented himself until 
his home became strange and uncomfortable to 
him : and he then did the same, because it had 
become so. Every man who may try the ex- 
periment will discover that these circumstances 
mutually aggravate each other — are, inter- 
changeably, cause and effect. His children 
were, however, always numerous, scarcely ever 
falling below half-a-dozen, and not unfrequently 
doubling that allowance. They generally ap- 
peared upon the stage in rapid succession — one 
had scarcely time to get out of the way, before 
another was pushing him from his place. The 
peevishness thus begotten in the mother — by 
the constant habit of nursing cross cherubs — 
though it diminished the amount of family 
peace, contributed, in another way, to the 
general welfare : it induced the father to look 
abroad for enjoyment, and thus gave the country 
the benefit of his wisdom as a political coun- 
sellor. Public spirit, and the consciousness of 



THE POLITICIAN. 363 

ability, have " brought out" many politicians : 
but uncomfortable homes have j^roduced many 
more. 

He was an oracle on the subject of hunting, 
and an unerring judge of whiskey — to both 
which means of enjoyment he was strongly 
attached. He was careful, however, neither to 
hunt nor drink in solitude, for even his amuse- 
ments were subservient to his political interests. 
To hunt alone was a waste of time, while drink- 
ing alone was a loss of good-fellowship, upon 
which much of his influence was founded. He 
was particularly attached to parties of half-a- 
dozen, or more ; for in such companions, his 
talents were always conspicuous. Around a 
burgou* pot, or along the trenches of an im- 
promptu barbecue, he shone in meridian splen- 
dor ; and the approving smack of his lips, over 
a bottle of "backwoods' nectar," was the seal 
of the judgment which gave character to the 
liquor. 

" Militia musters" were days in his calendar, 
"marked with a white-stone;" for it was upon 

* A kind of soup, made by boiling all sorts of ganne with 
corn, onions, tomatoes, and a variety of other vegetables. 
When skilfully concocted and properly sensoned, not at all 
unsavory. So called from a sonp made by seamen. 



36-i west]':rn ciiakactees. 

these occasions that he ai)peared in his ntmost 
magnificence. His grade was never lower than 
that of colonel, and it not nnfreqoently extend- 
ed to, or even beyond, the rank of brigadier- 
general. It was w^orth " a sabbath-day's jour- 
ney" on foot, to witness one of tliese parades ; 
for I believe that all the annals of the burlesque 
do not furnish a more amusing caricature of the 
" pomp and circumstance" of war. Compai-ed 
to one of those militia regiments, Falstaif's 
famous corps, whose appearance was so un- 
military as to prevent even that liberal-minded 
gentleman from marching through Coventry in 
their companj^, was a model of elegance and 
discipline. Sedeno's cavalry in the South Amer- 
ican wars, though their uniform consisted only 
of " leggings," a pair of spurs, and a Spanish 
blanket, had more the aspect of a regular corjps 
Warmee than these ! A mob of rustics was 
never armed with a more extensive variety of 
weapons ; and no night's " haul" of a recruiting 
sergeant's net, ever made a more disorderly ap- 
pearance, when mustered in the morning for 
inspection. 

The " citizen-soldier" knew no more about 
" dressing the line," than about dressing him- 
self, and the front of liis company presented as 
many >enualities as a "worm-fence." Tall 



THE poLrnciAN. 365 

men and short men — beaver hats and raccoon- 
skin caps — rusty firelocks and long corn-stalks 
— stiff brogans and naked feet — composed the 
grand display. There were as many officers as 
men, and each was continually commanding 
and instructing his neighbor, but never thinking 
of himself. At the command " Eight dress !" 
(when the officer jpar excellence knew enough 
to deliver it) some looked right, others left — 
some thrust their heads out before — some lean- 
ed back to get a glimpse behind — and the 
whole line waved like a streamer in the wind. 
" Silence in line !" produced a greater clamor 
than ever, for each repeated the command to 
every other, sending the order along the ranks 
like a rolling fire, and not nnfrequently enforcing 
it with the push of a corn-stalk, or a vigorous 
elbow-hint. When a movement was directed, 
tlie order reached the men successively, by the 
same process of repetition — so that while some 
files were walking slowly, and looking back to 
beckon on their lagging fellow-soldiers, others 
were forced to a quick run to regain their places, 
and the scramble often continued many minutes 
after the word " halt !" The longer the parade 
lasted, the worse was tlie drill ; and after a tedious 
day's " muster," each man knew less, if possible, 
of military tactics, than he did in the morning. 



366 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

But the most ludicrous part of the display, 
was the earnest solemnity with wliich the poli- 
tician-colonel endeavored " to lick the mass into 
shape." If you had judged only by the ex- 
pression of his face, you would have supposed 
that an invading army was already within our 
borders, and that this democratic army was the 
only hope of patriotism to repel the foreign 
foe. And, indeed, it might not be too mnch to 
say, that some such idea actually occupied his 
mind : for he was so fond of '' supposing cases." 
that bare possibilities sometimes grew in his 
mind to actual realities ; and it was a part of 
his creed, as well as his policy to preach, that 
" a nation's best defence" is to be found in '' the 
undisciplined valor of its citizens." His mili- 
tary maxims were not based upon the history 
of such countries as Poland and Spain — and 
Hungary had not then added her example to 
the list. He never understood the relation be- 
tween discipline and efficiency ; and tlie doc- 
trine of the " largest liberty" was so popular, 
that, on his theory, it must be universally right. 
Tempered thus, and modified by some of the 
tendencies of the demagogue, his love of military 
parade amounted to a propensity, a trait which 
he shared with most of the people among whom 
he lived. 



THE rOLITICIAN. 367 

The inference from this characteristic, that 
he possessed what phrenologists used to call 
" combativeness," is not unavoidable, though 
such was tlie fact. He was, indeed, quite pug- 
nacious, readj, at all times, to fight for himself 
or for his friends, and never with any very 
special or discriminating reference to the cause 
of quarrel. He was, however, seldom at feud 
with any one whose enmity could materially 
injure him : extensive connections he always 
conciliated, and every popular man was his 
friend. Nor was he compelled, in order to com- 
pass these ends, to descend to any very low 
arts ; for " the people," were not so fastidious in 
those days, as they seem since to have become ; 
and a straightforward sincerity was then the 
first element of popularity. The politician was 
not forced to afi'ect an exemplary "walk and 
conversation ;" nor was an open declaration of 
principle or opinion dangerous to his success. 

Tliis liberality in public sentiment had its 
evils : since, for example, the politician was net 
generally the less esteemed for being ratlier a 
hard swearer. In the majority of the class, in- 
deed, this amounted only to an energetic or em- 
phatic mode of expression ; and such the people 
did not less respect, than if, in the same person, 
they had had Reason to believe the opposite tone 



368 WESTERN CHARACTERS. 

hypocritical. The western people — to their 
honor be it written! — were, and are, mortal 
enemies to everything like cant : though they 
might regret, that one's morals were no tetter 
than they appeared, they were still more grieved, 
if they found evidence, that thej^ were loorse 
than they claimed to be. 

But, though the politician was really very 
open and candid in all the affairs of life, in liis 
own estimation he was a verv dexterous and 
dangerous intriguer : he often deceived himself 
into the belief, that the success, which was in 
fact the result of his manly candor, was attribu- 
table only to his cunning management. He 
was always forming, and attempting to execute, 
schemes for circumventing his political oppo- 
nents ; but, if he bore down all opposition, it 
was in spite of his chicanery, and not by its 
assistance. Left-handed courses are never ad- 
vantageous " in the long run ;" and, perhaps, it 
would be well if this lesson were better under- 
stood by politicians, even in our own enlight- 
ened day. 

For the arts of rhetoric he had small respect ; 
in his opinion, the man who was capable of 
making a long, florid speecli, was fit for little 
else. His own oratorical efforts«.were usually 



THE POLITICIAN. 369 

brief, pitliy, and to the point. For example, 
here follows a specimen, which the writer heard 
delivered in Illinois, by a candidate for the 
legislature: — 

" Fellow-citizens : I am no speech-maker, but 
what I say, Fll do. Fve lived among you 
twenty years, and if I've show^i myself a clever 
fellow, you know it, without a speech : if I'm 
not a clever fellow, you know^ that, too, and 
wouldn't forget it with a speech. I'm a candi- 
date for the legislature : if you think I'm ' the 
clear grit,' vote for me : if you think Major 

R of a better ' strij^e' than I am, vote for 

him. The fact is, that either of us will make 
a devilish good representative !" 

For the satisfaction of the reader, we should 
record that the orator was triumphantly elected, 
and, though " no speech-makei*," w^as an excel- 
lent member for several years. 

The saddest, yet cheerfullest — the quaintest, 
yet most unaffected of moralists, has Avritten 
" A Complaint upon the Decay of Beggars," 
which will not cease to be read, so long as pure 
English and pure feeling are understood and 
appreciated. They were a part of tlie recollec- 
tions of his childhood — images painted upon 
his heart, impressions made in his soft and pity- 
16^ 



370 WESTERN CIIAKACTEKS. 

ing nature ; and tlie " besom of societarian ref- 
ormation," legislating bus3^boclies, and tinkers 
of the general welfare, were sweeping them 
away, with all their humanizing influences, 
their deep lessons of dire adversity and gentle 
charity. 

There are some memories of the childhood 
of western men — unlike, and yet similar in their 
generous persuasions on all pure young hearts 
— upon whose " Decay" might, also, be written 
a " Complaint," which should come as truly, 
and yet as sadly, from the heart of him, who 
remembers his boyhood, as did that from the 
heart of Elia. Gatherings of the militia, bur- 
gou-hunts, barbecues, and anniversaries — pha- 
ses of a primitive, yet true and hearty time! — • 
are fast giving way, before the march of a bar- 
barous " progress" (erroneously christened) '* of 
intelligence." The hard spirit of money-get- 
ting, the harder spirit of education-getting, and 
the hardest of all spirits, that of pharasaical 
morality, have divorced our youth, a vinculo, 
from every species of amusement ; and life has 
come to be a probationary struggle, too fierce 
to allow a moment's relaxation. The bodies of 
children are drugged and worried into health, 
their intellects are stuffed and forced into pre- 
mature development, or early decay — but their 



THE POLITICIAN. 371 

hearts are ntterl}^ forgotten ! Enjoyment is a for- 
bidden tiling, and only the miserable cant of " in- 
tellectual pleasure" is allowed. Ideas — of phi- 
losophy, religious observance, and mathematics 
— are supplied ad nauseam / but the encourage- 
ment of a generous imjndse, or a magnani- 
mous /(3€?m^, is too frivolous a thing to have a 
place in our vile system. Children are " brought 
up," and " brought out," as if they were com- 
posed exclusively of intellect and body: And, 
since the manifestations of any other element 
are pronounced pernicious — even if the exis- 
tence of the element itself be recognised — the 
means of fostering it, innocent amusements, 
which make the sunshine brighter, the spirits 
more cheerful, and the heart purer and lighter, 
are sternly prohibited. Alas ! for the genera- 
tion which shall grow up, and be " educated" 
(God save the mark!) as if it had no heart! 
And wo to the blasphemy which dares to oifer, 
as service to Heaven, an arrogant contempt of 
Heaven's gifts, and claims a reward, like the 
self-tormentors of the middle ages, for its vain 
mortifications. 

But, in the time of the politician, of whom 
we write, these things were far different. We 
have already seen him at a "militia muster," 
and fain would we pause here, to display him 



372 AYESTERN ClIAEACTEKS. 

at a barbecue. What memories, sweet, tbongb 
sacl, we miglit evoke of " tbe glorious fourth" 
in the olden time ! How savorj are even the 
dim recollections of the dripping viands, which 
hung, and fried, and crisped, and crackled, over 
the great fires, in the long deep trenches! Our 
nostrils grow young again with the thought — ■ 
and the flavor of the feast floats on the breezes 
of memory, even " across the waste of years" 
which lie between ! And the cool, luxuriant 
foliage of the grove, the verdant thickets, and 
among them pleasant vistas, little patches of 
green sward, covered with gay and laughing 
parties — even the rosy-cheeked girls, in their 
rustling gingham dresses, cast now and then a 
longing glance, toward the yet forbidden tables! 
how fresh and clear these images return upon 
the fancy ! 

And then the waving banners, roaring can- 
non, and the slow procession, moving all too 
solemnly for our imj)atient wishes ! And final- 
ly, the dropping of the ropes, the simultaueous 
rush upon the open feast, and the rapid, per- 
haps ravenous consumption of the smoking 
viands, the jest, the laugh, all pleasant merri- 
ment, the exhilaration of the crowd, the music, 
and the occasion ! What glories we heard from 
the orator, of victories achieved by our fathers! 



THE roLITlCIAN. 373 

How we longed — O ! brief, but glorious dream ! 
to be one day spoken of like Washington ! 
How wildly our hearts leaped in our boyish 
bosoms, as we listened to the accents of the 
solemn pledge and " declaration" — " our lives, 
our fortunes, and our sacred honor!" The 
whole year went lighter for that one day, and 
at each return, we went home happier, and 
better ! 

How measureless we thought the politician's 
greatness then ! This was his proper element 
• — here he was at home ; and, as he ordered and 
directed everything about him, flourishing his 
marshal's baton, clearing the way for the march 
of the procession — settling the "order of exer- 
cises," and reading the programme, in a stento- 
rian voice — there was, probably in his own esti- 
mation, and certainly in ours, no more impor- 
tant or honored individual in all that multi- 
tude ! 

In such scenes as these, he was, indeed, with- 
out a rival ; but there were others, also, in 
which he was quite as useful, if not so conspic- 
uous. On election days, for instance, when a 
free people assembled to exercise their " inesti- 
mable privilege," to choose their own rulers — 
he was as busy as a witch in a tempest. His 
talents shone forth with especial and peculiar 



37tt Vv'ESTEEN CiIAIJACTi:i:S. 

lustre — for, with lilm, tins was "the daj for 
which all other cla3^s were made." He mar- 
shalled his retainers, and led them to "the 
polls" — not as an inexperienced tactician would 
have done, with much waste of time, in seek- 
ing ever}^ private voter, but after the manner 
of feudal times — by calling upon his immedi- 
ate dependants, captains over tens and twenties, 
throuojh whom he manao:ed the more numerous 
masses. These were the "file-leaders," the 
"fugle-men," and "heads of messes;" and it 
was by a judicious management of these, tliat 
he was able to acquire and retain an extensive 
influence. 

The first article of his electioneering creed 
was, that every voter was controlled by some- 
body ; and that the only way to sway the pri- 
vates was, to govern the officers : and, whether 
true or not, it must be admitted that his theory 
worked well in practice. He aflfected to enter- 
tain a high respect for those whom he described 
as " the boys from the heads of the hollows" — 
men who were never seen beyond the precincts 
of their own little " clearings," except upon the 
Fourth of July and election day, from one end 
of the year to the other. "With these he drank 
bad whiskey, made stale jokes, and afi^ected a 
flattering condescension. "With others, more 



THE POLITICIAN. 375 

important or less easily imposed upon, lie 
" whittled" sociably in the fence-corners, talked 
solemnly in conspicuous places, and always 
looked confidential and mysterious. 

But, however earnestly engaged, he never 
forgot the warfare in which he was chief com- 
batant. Like a general npon a field of battle, 
with his staff" about him, he had sundry of his 
friends always near, to undertake any commis- 
sion, or convey any order, which he desired to 
have executed ; and not a voter could come 
npon the ground, whom there was the remotest 
chance to influence, that his vigilance did not 
at once discover and seize upon, through some 
one of these lieutenants. He resorted to every 
conceivable art, to induce the freemen to vote 
properly ; and, w^lien he could not succeed in 
this, his next study was to prevent their voting 
at all. The consequence usually was, that he 
secured his own election, or that of his chosen 
candidate ; for, in him, vigilance and shrewd- 
ness were happily combined. 

But, perhaps fortunately for the country, his 
ambition was generally limited to such small 
offices, as he was quite capable of filling. The 
highest point at which he aijucd, was a seat in 
the state legislature ; and on reaching that goal, 



376 WESTERN CIIAKACTEKS. 

he signalized liis term, cliieflj, if at all, in advo- 
cating laws about division fences, and trespas- 
sers upon timber — measures wliicli he deemed 
desirable for his own immediate constituency, 
with very little care for the question of their 
general utility. Indeed, he never went to the 
capital, without having his pockets full of " pri- 
vate bills," for the gratification of his personal 
friends, or near neiglibors ; and if, after a reason- 
able term of service, he had succeeded in get- 
ting all these passed into laws, he came home, 
contented to " subside," and live the remainder 
of his days, upon the recollection of his legisla- 
tive honors. 

In the course of time, like all other earthly 
things, his class began to decay. Tlie tide of 
immigration, or the increasing intelligence of 
the people, raised up men of larger views ; and 
he speedily found himself outstripped in the 
race, and forgotten by his ancient retainers. 
Then — like his predecessor, the original fron- 
tierman — disgusted with civilization and its 
refinements — he migrated to more congenial 
regions, and, in the scenes of his former tri- 
umphs, was heard of no more. 



THE POLITICIAN. 877 



EPILOGUE. 

Hf.ke we mnst pause. 

On the hitlier side of the period, represented 
by the early politician, and between that and 
the jiresent, the space of time is much too nar- 
row, to contain any distinct development: those 
who superseded the primitive oracles, are yet 
in possession of the temple. We could not, 
therefore, pursue our plan further, without 
hazarding the charge of drawing from the life. 

It is remarkable, that anytliing like a fair or 
candid estimate of — for example — a public 
man's character, while he is yet favored with 
the people's suffrages, is very certain to be pro- 
nounced a caricature; and it is not less singu- 
lar, that, while the complaints of popnlar critics, 
in effect, affirm that there is fidelity enongli in 
the picture to enable even obtuse minds to fit 
the copy to the original, they at the same time 
vehemently assert that the whole portrait is a 
libel. A just admeasurement of a demagogue's 
ability is thus always abated by tlic imputation 
of partisan falsehood or prejudice ; and wlioso- 
ever declines to join in the adulation of a tem- 
porary idol, may consider himself fortunate, if 
he escape with only the reproach of envy. 



378 WESTERN CHARACTEKS. 

Sketches of contemporaneous character — if 
they seek recognition among the masses, must, 
therefore, not reduce the altitude which blind 
admiration has assigned, nor cut away the for- 
eign lace, nor tear the ornaments, with which 
excited parties have bedaubed their images of 
clay. And, yet, so prone are men to overrate 
their leaders, that no estimate of a prominent 
man can be just, without impugning popular 
opinion. 

There is probably no other ground quite so 
perilous as politics, unless it be literature : and, 
as yet, the west is comparatively barren of those 
'' sensitive plants," literary men. But any at- 
tempt to delineate society, by portraiture of 
living characters, even though the pictures 
were purely ideal, would, upon the present plan, 
involve the suspicion (and perhaps the tempta- 
tion to deserve it), indicated above. Before 
venturing upon such uncertain paths, therefore, 
we must display a little generalship, and call a 
halt, if not a council of war. "Whether we are 
to march forward, will be determined by the 
"General Orders.^'' 



THE END. 



J. S. REDFIELD, 

110 AND 112 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK, 

HAS JUST PUBLISHED: 




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OR 

PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF AN ITALIAN. 

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" SHAKESPEARE AS HE WROTE IT." 

THE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE, 

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Br J. PAYNE COLLIER, F.S.A. 

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